


Enduring Life

by Sukunami



Series: Life Series [12]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-05-20
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukunami/pseuds/Sukunami
Summary: From a time of war comes LifeKalen Almasy, grandson of Seifer and Squall Almasy, wants nothing more than to make his mother, Seveyn, healthy again and endures everything for the sake of family and the lives of others. He never planned on meeting another soul who understands what it means to sacrifice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a horrible, no good, terrible, dirty secret about this last installment of the Life Series.
> 
> I started the thing back in 2004 and had the "continued" tag on it ever since because I had vague ideas of adding more to the story, but never did... Until I got the bug again a couple years ago. In a painfully slow fashion, I have been writing more to Enduring Life and I'm finally willing to admit that I've done something new. Because of that, I have adjusted this first chapter to make room for the coming longer story, so if you feel like things are different, you're not crazy!
> 
> I'm not saying this is anything people will want to read since it's about Kalen with SxS being side characters to the main story, and I'm sorry if it's boring for that reason, but hey, I'm writing something again! That is a miracle in of itself. Please please please be patient as I attempt to write this thing after being a slacker for over a decade, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thank you for being the most amazing readers and supporters ever!
> 
> PS, Apologies to Gardens Gnome! I'm about 99% certain this version of events fucks with whatever I told you about Kalen's interests/future. I'm going to play the "it's been a decade and I forget everything" card on this one.

 

[Azura]

My legs tucked beneath me, I sit beneath a tree blooming with pink flowers and gaze into the distance at the evening sun as it slowly sinks behind the massive structure of Esthar Garden. Military-grade, white panels reflect the warm light into a reddish halo that befits the home and school of mercenaries. I had never called the place home myself, but considering my brother’s role as Commander and eventually Headmaster, Esthar Garden has filled a larger part of my life than I imagine my parents would have preferred.

Some days, usually while staring at Esthar Garden like this, I wonder if I took the wrong path in life and if I should have been a SeeD like my blood occasionally demands. But then I feel the itch of my fingertips, and I know that writing was always my greater calling, the family legacy be damned.

“There you are.”

I brush aside ticklish strands of hair from my face and smile faintly before looking to the approaching teen... But who am I kidding? Kalen has become a man at some unidentifiable moment. The nineteen-year-old has my mother's stride, stiff with purpose and yet somehow graceful with each step. His hair is darker than mine, which is a poor match for the odd white strands that stand out compared to the chocolate brown locks. At least Kalen has decent fashion sense unlike the rest of our family, but to be fair, he doesn't have the same worry as the others who have the habit of ruining their clothes in sparring matches.

Kalen stops a few steps away, his deep blue eyes giving away none of his thoughts. "You've been missed."

I chuckle at that and then lean back against the tree I have been sitting under for the past thirty minutes or so. "Perhaps I should be offended that it took them this long to notice, especially with it being _my_ engagement party and all."

The lean youth says nothing to that, but when I also remain silent, he sighs before sitting on the other side of tree. "So, how far along are you?"

I gag on my breath at the question, the resulting attack of coughs already ruining my chance of lying to my little nephew, but that doesn’t stop me from trying anyway. "Um, what do you mean?"

Kalen breathes a laugh. "You always said that the day you got married would be the day you were pregnant."

"Ugh, do you realize how damn annoying it is that you remember everything that I tell you?" I groan at being found out and press a hand against my stomach. "I'm guessing six weeks."

"Then you haven't seen a doctor yet."

"No, I haven't made an appointment to see the attractive and _single_ Dr. Takamura yet," I say with a smirk, hoping for a response that sadly doesn't come. Defeated, I concede, “I’m planning to make an appointment with him. I promise."

"Before or after Granddad finds out?"

I pout at the idea of telling my parents about this. "Hopefully before that, and if I’m lucky, before Mom figures something out, too."

Kalen huffs. "Nothing gets past Grandmom. He was the one to send me out to check on you, and he suggested that I should look for you in the bathroom first."

"Fucking _shit_ , he can't know! I only found out a few weeks ago. And poor Jael just found out last night..."

"Did he take it well?"

"Jael? Well, aside from him being unable to sleep all night from worry about my parents hunting him down, he's taking it better than I could have hoped. I think he has already fallen in love with whatever I have inside of me. I'm kind of jealous, actually. It took the bastard a whole year to figure out that he liked me, but he falls in love with this unborn stranger in under an hour. It's unfair."

There's a quiet chuckle before Kalen stands up. "We should go back. That is, if you're feeling well enough."

"Oh no, don't you start this 'pamper the fat and grumpy pregnant woman' act already. I'm feeling perfectly healthy, thank you very much. I just needed some fresh air."

Kalen smiles softly as he offers a hand to help me to my feet. Reluctantly I accept the aid, but only because I need the physical contact, even if for a brief moment. And it annoys me that Kalen knows when I need this. As we walk hand-in-hand back to the engagement party, I realize how much I missed this guy. I wish I could have tricked him into moving to Timber, but I know that his life is here with family and his training to become a doctor. Nothing short of my life being threatened would have dragged him away from that. And with that thought in mind, I lean against the man easily half a foot taller than me and momentarily savor in the protective presence of my knight.

* * *

_"You haveta be my knight."_

_With wide blue eyes, the dark-haired boy looked up at the taller girl. "But I'm not big enough."_

_The six-year-old pouted at not immediately getting her way. "But I want you as my knight. Auntie Rinoa has Mommy, and Veyn has my brother, and they got to pick their knights. Why can't I pick you?"_

_"But I'm too little."_

_"So?"_

_Kalen frowned in thought. "But Grandma and Daddy are really, really,_ really _strong. They fight dragons 'n' stuff."_

_"Soooo?" Azura replied with clear frustration._

_Before the younger child could think of a reply, a voice called out from behind the trees. "Kay! Rainy! Where are you?"_

_A twin call of "Daddy" and "Isan" answered, soon followed by the appearance of the young man with chocolate brown hair and a dark gunblade hanging from the holster at his waist. Towering over the two children, Isan smirked at them before asking, "And what kind of trouble are you two trying to get into now?"_

_"Isan, Isan, guess what? Kalen is gonna be my knight!"_

_An eyebrow rose at the same time amusement lit the soft green eyes. "Is that so?"_

_"Nuh-uh," Kalen said as he gripped onto his father's pants. "I'm too little."_

_Humming as if the boy made a profound argument, Isan bent down and lifted him up to be eye-to-eye with the child. "But do you want to protect Azura?"_

_Shyly, the boy nodded, earning a wide smile from his young aunt._

_"Then how about we make a deal. You can be her knight, but her parents and I will help you watch over Azura until you're big enough to protect her all by yourself. Does that sound like a plan?"_

_Kalen smiled and hugged his father's neck tightly. "Thank you, Daddy."_

_Kissing the boy's temple, Isan replied, "Anything for you, kiddo. Now that that's settled, we better hurry and get our lunch before Uncle Zell eats everything that isn't moving."_

_Kalen was set back down onto the grassy ground, his hand soon grasped by another small hand. He looked to his taller aunt and smiled shyly once meeting the bright green eyes of the young girl._

_"I told you so. You'll be the best knight ever," Azura said, confident and proud._

* * *

[Squall]

"There's my little kitten," Seifer says with a slight slur, the champagne starting to affect the man who only drinks on special occasions.

His pledge to avoid alcohol is one of many examples that proves his unmatched stubbornness, especially considering Seifer made the decision decades ago. A few months of self-destructive drinking after the war pales in comparison to years of relative good behavior, but Seifer still acts like he is one bad decision away from reverting back to the arrogant youth who had been duped by a Sorceress. The damned idiot.

“Be nice, Seifer,” I warn.

“She’s the one not being nice,” Seifer scoffs as he starts to walk in her direction, only his first step showing a slight tilt. "I bet she thought she could avoid a dance with her old man.”

Deciding that Seifer won’t make too much of a scene, I look forward to my unsuspecting daughter and her fiancé. At twenty, Azura has grown into a lovely woman with dirty blonde hair, sea-green eyes, and the foul mouth of a sailor or, more appropriately, a SeeD Commander. She might have a slim figure and expensive fashion sense, but she is entirely Seifer’s daughter with a devious mind and a nasty right-hook. More than a few SeeD mercenaries have fallen for the trap that a girl in high heels could never match them in a fight, and Azura has taken great pleasure in humiliating them time and time again.

But that ended when Jael Moore entered her life. Seifer hired Jael to watch over Azura once she hit her rebellious teen years. It was also when she discovered a love for journalism, unfortunately inherited from Laguna along with his knack to get into dangerous situations. Jael was the third SeeD we had hired after the others failed to keep Azura away from escalating battles, not to mention businesses with connections to weapons trafficking and drug cartels. Where the others thought Azura was a spoilt child of the Estharian President, Jael saw the daughter of Seifer Almasy, the legendary gunblade master who still enjoys his pastime to visit Esthar Garden and teach some “lessons” to the latest group of cocky SeeD cadets. Jael has fallen to Seifer’s blade enough times to recognize the man’s strategizing mind, and he rightly assumed Azura was trained by the best.

For at least that first year, Azura had been infuriated by Jael and his constant interference as he saw through the majority of her plans. I would say she truly despised him judging by her rants back then, which is entertaining to recall when she now leans against him with no urge to separate.

Jael stands several inches taller than my daughter, for which she compensates with an impressive set of heels. His white formal SeeD uniform stands out against his dark skin and makes him look leaner than I know the dagger expert to be. On the right side of his head, the symbol representing his favorite GF, Quezacotl, has been shaved into his hair, a trend that has being going around the Gardens lately. In all, he’s terribly young even though he is a couple years older than my daughter, and I hope to Hyne that he can take care of her.

Eventually Seifer reaches the pair, and I can't resist my smile as I watch my husband steal Azura from her fiancé's hold and move directly into a dance to fit the current music. Of course Moore doesn't dare to argue, knowing that only a man with a death wish would step between Seifer and his “kitten”. Instead, he smiles and steps toward some SeeD friends, perhaps subconsciously looking for reinforcements.

"Are you certain he'll be able to give his girl away at the wedding?"

I look to the direction of the voice and smirk slightly. "I'll make certain he does. But I haven't heard yet if you'll be able to attend and witness it for yourself."

Dr. Kentaro Takamura looks at me with brown eyes full of amusement. "As if I could pass up such an event. An Almasy wedding is never one to miss."

I smile, pleased that the family doctor and friend will be there among the mess of other attendees. After so many years of new life and near death events, Kentaro has become a part of the strange group of people I like to call family. I'll never regret stealing him away from Esthar Garden and placing him on staff here at the capital. And I won't deny that I've needed his optimistic support on occasion, typically when Seifer has been doing his “diplomatic” thing in other countries. Some days I regret making Seifer my advisor, even when I know that he is damned effective at the role.

"Think the lad can handle our darling Azura?" Kentaro asks with a nod in the direction of Moore, the darkly skinned man currently laughing with one of his SeeD friends.

I scoff. "No one can handle her. She spent too much time with her aunts and grandfather."

Kentaro chuckles at the truth of the matter. "Well, she's still a good kid. You should be proud."

"I am," I say softly while easily finding father and daughter dancing to a slow song. Seifer leans over to whisper something into her ear, Azura then laughing as she playful slaps the back of his head.

"Grandmom."

I turn to look up at the young man, another damn Almasy who is taller than me. "Was she okay?"

Kalen smiles. "How do you know these things?"

I shrug, content to maintain that convenient all-knowing status of mine.

"Oh, what's this now?"

Unsurprisingly, Kalen stiffens at the sound of the lighthearted voice and he glances over at Kentaro. "Dr. Takamura..."

"Evening, Dr. Almasy. I haven't seen you around lately."

Dark blue eyes shift shyly as he mumbles, "I'm not a doctor yet."

"In due time. I've spoken with a couple colleagues at the hospital and they are pleased with your performance." When Kalen refuses to meet brown eyes, Kentaro shrugs and asks me, "But what was this about Azura?"

"She's pregnant," I reply.

Pale eyebrows rise at the answer. "You never were one for subtlety. I take it that you aren't surprised?"

I say nothing, not wanting to remind the doctor about our family's habit of having children at a young age. It's almost sad how, at twenty, Azura is already years older than I was when I had Isan, and of course older than when my son fathered Kalen. Knowing my daughter, once I heard that the free spirit was finally tying herself to Moore, I figured that she must have gotten herself pregnant.

Kentaro laughs with his typical ease. "Well, I'd be happy to aid another Almasy into this world, though I'm guessing that the young lady will be returning to Timber once the wedding has taken place?"

"She hasn't told me," I say, pretending that my voice didn't suggest any of my displeasure at Azura living so far from home. It's been three years now: why haven't I come to terms with this yet?

Any comments by the grinning doctor are cut short when Kalen suddenly straightens and smiles brightly at a point behind me. "Mom, Dad, you made it."

I turn to face the couple, unable to completely hide my smile at the sight of Isan holding his husband close with a protective arm. Seveyn smiles brightly, the white-haired man no longer shy about my son's habit of clinging onto him within a crowded situation. Glancing up at the dark-haired man, I easily notice the faint redness to the soft green eyes, but I chose to not comment. I have already heard from Kalen that they had a rough morning and were thinking about passing on the engagement party, so it is more the surprise that they decided to show.

While Seveyn breaks away to greet his son, Isan approaches me for a powerful hug which rivals my father's death-grips. The hold lasts longer than necessary, but I let the younger man indulge in his need for comfort. Eventually Isan steps back with a quiet “thank you.”

"Azura will be happy you came," I mention, hoping to distract him from darker thoughts.

The dark-haired man smiles his relief, and then glances over the room. "Where is Rainy, anyway? We didn't see her on the way inside."

"Her father demanded a dance."

Isan chuckles lightly, knowing exactly how controlling Seifer is about his little girl. "Do you think Moore will ever see his fiancée again?"

"Azura hopes so."

A quiet “oh my” sounds just barely louder than the music, and I look over at Seveyn to see him holding a hand against his chest as his redden eyes stare out at the dance floor. It's no surprise to find him staring at one particular couple. Before I can say anything, Isan is quickly at his side with a hand steady at the slim waist.

"What's wrong?"

Seveyn turns to lightly glare at his husband. "I'm fine. I just... I thought I saw something."

"You did," I state with unintended amusement, “and we aren't speaking of it."

The white-haired man turns to face me, his lips forming faint smile of understanding. "Trying to prevent a murder?"

I don't reply, but something must show on my face which makes Seveyn laugh quietly as he looks back to the father and daughter pair, just in time to witness a flamboyant dip. At least Seifer is exhausting his desire to dance with Azura and not me.

Dark eyebrows scrunched in confusion, Isan glances between his husband and myself. "What are you two talking about? Is there a security issue here?"

At the same moment I scoff, Seveyn hits the back of his hand against the broad chest. "Must it always be business with you?"

With a vague pouting expression, my overly tired son says, "But you mentioned preventing a murder..."

"And nobody here aside from an assassin could murder someone?" Seveyn asks jokingly. He then leans closer to tell his husband, "By the way, I win."

The green-eyed man blinks twice before his lips form a silent “oh” sound and he glances over to his father and sister as they dance. “Preventing a murder, indeed," he states with some amusement, but I notice his hand clenching into a fist at his side. Hn, I didn't consider that brotherly instincts would become a problem within the coming chaos.

A hand settles on my shoulder as Kentaro speaks quietly. "Forgive me, but I just noticed a few old friends of mine. Good luck protecting the lad from Seifer, and I will hopefully see everyone in one piece later."

I nod that I heard him, and the doctor promptly leaves for another corner of the large room.

"A-aw, the doc ran away."

At the deep voice, I glance up to see Seifer approaching with his “kitten” held tightly at his side and a fresh glass of champagne held in his free hand. The emerald eyes of my daughter focus on me in a silent plea for help, and though I'm tempted to let her suffer for trying to keep secrets from me, I surrender when she mouths a pitiful “please” in my direction.

"Isan, didn't you want a dance with your sister before Moore could monopolize her time?"

My son glances back at me with some confusion before realizing my intention to free Azura from her father. "Uh, yeah. Unless Rainy doesn't want to dance with her old brother."

The young girl laughs, relief highlighting the melodic sound. "It's 'older' brother, not 'old'. And of course I want to dance with you. Come on, I love this song."

Though Seifer pouts with drunken displeasure, the man of white-gold hair reluctantly releases his daughter, and she promptly rushes to her brother's side to drag him toward the dance floor. Watching them go, Seifer asks, "Is it just me or does Azura seem overly tense? And maybe a little... sickly?"

Kalen pales slightly when the sharp green eyes of his grandfather shift in his direction. "Uh, Mom? Feel like dancing with me?"

Seveyn smirks softly at the escape attempt. "Just one song, and no dipping."

The dark-haired youth smiles with relief as he takes his mother's arm and they walk to the hardwood area, leaving behind the suspicious blond.

"They know something," Seifer mutters before sipping some of his champagne. "I'll get it out of the youngest, there's no doubt about that."

"Leave Kalen alone," I say while grabbing his arm and pulling him back to some free seats at an empty table. "And you aren't allowed anything more to drink."

The larger man huffs while plopping down in a seat. "I'm not drunk."

"For the most part," I agree while sitting next to him, "and I'm making certain that you won't have the chance to get that far."

"When did you stop being fun?"

"I was never any fun," I remind him.

Seifer scoffs, but chooses not to argue the fact while his eyes settle on the dancing couples. "I thought the cub was going to keep his mate home."

"You know how much Seveyn adores Azura. He wouldn't miss her engagement party unless it was something serious."

"Hyne, Squall, it is serious. He shouldn't be straining himself over something like this."

I glance over at the sprawled out man. "Don't tell me that you're admitting that you are worried about him?"

Seifer huffs. "I'm more worried about Isan. He doesn't seem to be handling this very well. Hell, despite our lifestyles, he hasn't had to deal with the death of someone close to him. Except for that one assassination attempt against you, none of us have met a bullet with our names on it. His friends have moved on from their mercenary days. Dad is in his eighties and still kicking strong, not to mention his two partners in crime. Why did it have to be his 'angel' to get all of the bad luck?"

"Isan is strong, and he has Kalen to rely on."

"I know, I know, but... it's not the same. I mean, when I almost lost you that one time... Well, you know what everyone else told you about me being a complete mess. I don't like seeing my kid going through the same shit."

There is no response I could offer, and so I only shift closer to the larger man who has kept unfairly fit despite his over fifty years of a hard life. Seifer takes advantage of my closeness and wraps an arm around my back to pull me even closer and rest his head against my shoulder. We say nothing for that time, our gazes focused on family members and our thoughts lost in the past.

* * *

_Soft knocking made Squall sigh before he set down his book onto his lap. "Enter."_

_After a brief hesitation, the door opened with hardly a sound and a young man of twenty-five peaked his head through the opening. "I'm sorry. Am I bothering you?"_

_"Seveyn," the brunet said with unhidden surprise. "I wasn't expecting visitors this weekend."_

_"I know I should've called, but..." The white-haired man didn't finish his thought, nor did he step further into room as if debating the reasons of why he decided to meet with the Estharian president._

_Placing his book on the coffee table, Squall said, "You aren't interrupting anything. Why don't you have a seat?"_

_Though his uncertain look didn't fade, Seveyn entered the study and took a seat at the plush couch next to the matching sofa chair which the brunet occupied. His eyes dark purple in the dim light of the room, the young man stared down at his hands as he fiddled with the end of his lengthy braid._

_"Is everything fine with Isan and Kalen?"_

_The white-haired man nodded._

_"Then I suppose that only leaves you."_

_Startled, Seveyn looked up and stared into the knowing gaze of pale eyes. Then, with a soft smile he said, "I guess it would be pointless to deny it."_

_Saying nothing, Squall leaned back in his chair in a silent sign for the man to speak when he was ready._

_"I don't really know the best way to say this, but at least with you I can be direct. I think... I know that there's something wrong with me."_

_"Wrong with you?"_

_The young man nodded. "As long as I can remember, I've suffered through occasional fainting spells. Only a few times a year at most, but for the past several years, they have been more frequent."_

_Frowning, Squall asked, "Is there anything else?"_

_Playing with his braid once again, he replied, "Some days I've been too easy to tire. And more recently, there have been episodes of pain. Nothing terrible, but certainly noticeable."_

_With a deep sigh, the brunet rubbed his fingers against his temple. "Have you seen a doctor yet?"_

_"Of course, but Dr. Takamura couldn't find anything physically wrong with me. Though he suggested that it could be something related to my powers, that my body is rejecting my greater use of magic."_

_"Then have you spoken with Rinoa?"_

_Biting his lower lip, Seveyn shook his head. "I don't want to make a big fuss, especially since I feel like it's nothing that can be treated."_

_Stormy eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Have you told my son, your husband about any of this?"_

_The white-haired man winced. "No. He has enough to worry about with becoming the new Headmaster of Esthar Garden, and I don't want him to know. It's nothing serious--"_

_"Then why tell me?"_

_"Because I needed someone to know in case..." Seveyn took a calming breath before meeting the icy gaze. "I don't want to be pitied or forced to stop healing people. I still have so much to repent for."_

_With an ever-suffering sigh, Squall stood up to look down at the younger man. "Do you know why you're here?"_

_"To tell you--"_

_"No."_

_Seveyn blinked at the interruption. "I... There wasn't another reason."_

_Taking a seat at the man's side on the couch, the brunet said, "You know I will make you tell Isan."_

_"No, I can't. Not yet."_

_"Because you know that he's the only one who could make you stop using your powers, even if you were to learn that your magic is the cause behind your condition."_

_Lightly biting at his lip again, the young man nodded._

_After silently staring into downcast reddish-purple eyes, Squall said, "Seven years ago, I made a promise to you that you wouldn't go through your pregnancy alone. Since then, you gave birth to my grandson and married my son. While we may not say the words, I hope you realize that by now both Seifer and I consider you our son as much as Isan."_

_Seveyn straightened at the words, his eyes no longer afraid to meet the cooler gaze. "I wasn't certain... Isan has told me that many times, though he thinks you favor me more," he added with a shy smile._

_"Perhaps," the brunet admitted with a small smirk, “but either way, know that we're here for whatever you need. While I'll respect your wish for secrecy for now, if I ever witness you fainting or suffering, that's the end of my patience. I only hope for your sake that Isan forgives you for this deception."_

_"I hope so, too, but thank you, Mom."_

_Squall stiffened instantly at the title, his expression losing all of its previous warmth._

_Surprised himself, Seveyn pressed a hand over his reddened face. "I'm sorry. Isan always... and I was thinking how you are... I'm so sorry."_

_"No." Vaguely amused, the Estharian president shook his head with a resigned smile. "No, don't be sorry. I was caught off guard. One would think I'd be used to that title by now." Squall took hold of the hand covering the young man's face and pulled it away to reveal the wary gaze beneath. "If you would like to, you may call me... 'Mom'. But I know--"_

_The words were cut off as the white-haired man lunged forward to hug the brunet and press his still-reddened face into the dark cloth of the man's sweater. Awkwardly, Squall moved his arm around the bent back and rested his cheek against the soft hair. The eventual feel of hot tears through his clothing didn't come as a surprise to the brunet._

_"You won't go through this alone, Seveyn. I promise you that."_

* * *

[Isan]

Holding onto a manicured hand in my rougher grasp, I let Azura swing out before I pull her back toward me in a fancy spin. She laughs happily at the move which our father taught us years ago. I was never big into dancing back then, but Azura wanted to learn some steps for a major dance at her school and I was somehow tricked into joining those lessons of hers. Granted, learning those dance moves have come in handy during Garden events, but I wish I had Mom's immunity against the Almasy pout.

Laughing, Azura presses close to my body. "I'm so happy that you and Veyn could come. I haven't seen either of you in ages."

"You were here for Father's Day the other month."

"Like I said, it's been _ages_ ," she says with a wide grin.

I shake my head, amused that she has our father's sense of time. "Well, it's not our fault that you accepted the job in Timber."

"I know, but I love writing for _Timber Maniacs_. Did I tell you that I got another promotion? Their female audience has practically doubled in the past year, and they say it's my column which is bringing them in. They even offered me a new office."

"That's great, Rainy. Then I guess you're going straight back to Timber after the wedding?"

"Well..." She glances up into my eyes, and then promptly frowns. "Kalen told you something."

Smirking lightly, I correct her, "I do have a sorcerer for a husband. He noticed your condition the moment he set eyes on you."

Azura huffs. "That I didn't consider. Damn. First Mom figures out with that sixth sense of his, and now Veyn... Since Jael doesn't have any broken bones yet, I assume Dad is the only one who doesn't know?"

"In theory, but I'll bet he suspects something by the way Kalen bolted to the dance floor with Seveyn."

Blinking, the brunette glances over her shoulder at the dancing pair. "Oh no, poor Kalen. Dad always picks on him for information."

"You could make it easier on your nephew."

With a quiet sigh, Azura rests her head on my shoulder. "I know I should be the one to tell Dad, but... I really do love Jael. I'm not doing this because of the baby. Everything just kind of happened at the same time, with me deciding that I need to be more of an adult, and Jael did this really sweet thing when I had a bad week last month. I fell in love with him all over again."

"But you think Dad will only focus on the baby."

"I know he will."

“You shouldn't underestimate him like that. Of course he'll give you a hard time, but in the end, he's the one who got Mom pregnant twice before they finally married. He knows that marriage isn't everything in a relationship."

Azura looks up at me with bright green eyes. "But he always told me to be married before I got myself pregnant."

"He told me to wait, too, but life doesn't always go the way you plan it." With a light squeeze, I add, "You're his daughter, Rainy. He'll support you no matter what you do."

Frowning, she glances to the corner of the room where her fiancé is talking with his SeeD friends. "I'm more worried about Jael. Dad still complains about him not being the gay enough."

I smile widely at the truth that Dad had tried to find a gay bodyguard to protect his “kitten”, but Moore turned out to be bisexual instead of strictly homosexual. Since I knew little about Moore before he became involved with my sister, I've made it a point to learn more about the darkly skinned man in the past year. He's a softly spoken person, but his skill with daggers is unrivaled and has saved Azura from several anti-sorceress attacks, not to mention her own poor planning when hunting down a big story. But most importantly, I know that Jael is completely smitten with this young woman despite their rough beginnings when Azura didn't want a “babysitter” to follow her around. They'll be good for each other as long as Moore continues to show his backbone around our unusual family.

"You really think everything will be alright?" Azura asks, a hint of her true concern showing through.

"I'm certain of it. And worse comes to worse, tell Mom to pull his blade on Dad before he does something stupid."

She laughs with a relieved smile. "I'll remember that."

As we sway slowly to the next song, I glance over her shoulder to watch Kalen dancing in a similar manner with his mother as they talk about something. Most likely about my son's work in medical school. That kid amazes me every time I see him. I don’t know where he got his set of brains, but he enrolled in college at sixteen, and then sped through his classes to graduate in three years so that he could enter medical school as soon as he could. He has spent hours of studying along with volunteer work at the Estharian Memorial Hospital, and all of it was done for his mother. While it’s hard to believe he is my son at times, I couldn't be prouder of him.

"You're getting like Dad, you know."

Blinking in surprise, I lean back to look at the brunette. "Is that an insult or a complement?"

She shrugs, then holds me tighter. "You're the one who always reminds Mom and Dad that the rest of us are here. I guess it's going to be my job to remind you the same."

"Rainy..."

"No, Isan. I'm not exaggerating." Azura places a soft hand against my cheek. "Did you look in the mirror before showing up?"

"It's nothing. I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Uh huh," she says while her fingers move back into my hair in a vague attempt to straight the mess. "And that was your excuse the past five times I've seen you. He'll be okay, brother. Auntie Rinoa is working with Kalen to create some mixture of magic and medicine to figure out what's wrong. With her powers and his brains, they'll have no problems healing Veyn." Leaning against me once more, she sighs quietly. "I just wish I had the same power as Auntie Rinoa."

I don't reply and instead kiss her light brown hair in a sign that I understand her frustration. Holding the young woman close, my eyes once again shift to the man of long white hair as he laughs at something my son tells him. I didn't want to bring Seveyn tonight, but seeing his spirits raised like this, I realize that I was foolish to argue with the man about what he could handle. I'll have to properly beg for his forgiveness later.

Resting my cheek against soft hair, I think about my sister's words while watching the graceful movements of my husband. I once faulted my parents for never realizing how deeply bonded they are, but focused on Seveyn, I suddenly realize that I can't imagine a life without him. It wasn't always like that. After Kalen's birth, we purposefully waited almost two years before marrying since we wanted to make certain that our relationship was more than teenage hormones. For the life of me, I can't remember the moment when Seveyn became my everything in the seventeen years since our wedding day. But watching him, I can easily imagine the feel of my fingers stroking through his hair, the warmth of his breath against my neck, and the sound of his contented sighs...

... Fuck. I _am_ getting too much like Dad.

* * *

_"You can't go in there!"_

_No one listened to the call of the nurse as a dark-haired man carried a small boy of seven in his arms, and behind them followed a young girl of the same age who held tightly onto the hand of a white-haired man. They rushed down the hallway to the emergency room of the Estharian Palace and entered without announcing themselves._

_"Mom?!"_

_In a fast move, someone reached out and pulled Isan away from the gathering of medical experts. "They're working on him."_

_Isan frowned at his father while lifting his young son into a better position at his side. "We saw the live broadcast and left right after seeing the shooting. We haven't heard any details..."_

_Sharp green eyes glared at the bed surrounded by people. "Two of the shots landed. One grazed his head and the other pierced his chest."_

_"Daddy...?"_

_The serious mood of the blond man instantly shifted as he set eyes on his daughter. Stealing the girl from Seveyn, he lifted her up and held her tightly while shielding her from the sight of the unconscious president. He murmured quiet assurances to Azura and tenderly kissed her light brown hair._

_"I don't understand," Isan said while holding Kalen in the same manner. "That should be easy to heal, shouldn't it?"_

_Seifer shook his head. "There's some kind of poison which is preventing proper healing while also causing mass havoc on his body." Green eyes shifted to the white-haired man. "And before you say a damned word, you aren't allowed to do anything. Squall made me promise that on the way here."_

_"What, why?" Seveyn asked with obvious distress. "I can help..."_

_"I don't know why. All he said was that you aren't allowed to endanger yourself no matter what."_

_Redden eyes went wide at the words, and then narrowed as he glanced in the direction of the bed. "I want to help him."_

_"Tough shit."_

_"Sev," Isan said with a concerned tone. "What is going on here?"_

_Looking at his husband, the white-haired man shook his head. "Now is not the time. I promise to explain when Mom is better."_

_Seifer interrupted whatever the dark-haired man was about to argue. "Listen, take Azura and get out of here. The doc already got on my case about being in the way, and having so many people in here isn't helping Squall. Stay in the waiting room, and stop your grandfather and anybody else who decides to make an appearance."_

_Azura was returned to Seveyn, the little girl obviously not happy at the tension around her. Isan lowered his son to the ground as well and asked his husband to take the children for the moment. Seveyn nodded and led the two youths outside with an experience hand._

_"Dad," Isan started as he strongly hugged the larger man. "Remember we're here, too, all right?"_

_Seifer wrapped an arm around his son, but his green eyes stayed focus on his unconscious lion. "It hurts seeing him like this, kiddo. It hurts a lot."_

_"I know... I know that, Dad. Just..."_

_At the faltered words, Seifer moved back from the hug and placed a hand at his son's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but you know the Almasy rule - never make a promise which you aren't completely certain that you can keep."_

_Isan looked away, not hiding his disappointment and frustration. "If we're not in the waiting room, we'll be in our room upstairs. Don't worry about Azura, but let us know about any changes."_

_Seifer nodded, already resuming his place leaning against the wall with his gaze focused on the bed._

_Pushing the door open with more force than needed, the dark-haired man left the emergency room and walked toward the waiting room at a slow pace. Murmuring to himself, Isan said, "I'm not ready yet... Not just yet…"_

* * *

[Azura]

While I had wasted plenty of time with my dear brother, I know it's only a matter of time before I have to face the music. After kissing Isan lightly on the cheek and thanking him for the dance, I walk in the direction of my husband-to-be.

Laughing with his friends, it takes Jael a moment before he notices my approach. He smiles broadly at the sight of me, and after murmuring a parting to his friends, he strides up to meet me halfway. Only an inch shorter than my father but sporting a leaner build, the darkly skinned man certainly has the body of a trained soldier, but it's his sharp mind and soft voice which I love most about my fiancé. It's amusing that those were the things I hated most about him when we first met. Then again, I was rather determined to hate him no matter what for being my personal babysitter.

"Well, hello there, you lovely thing," Jael says with his most charming smile as his arms wrap around my waist. "I haven't seen my fiancée all evening, so there's plenty of time for a quickie in the presidential bedroom if you're interested..." His dark eyebrow arches suggestively.

I try to smile at his teasing tone, but I obviously fail judging by his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Almost everyone knows about our coming angel," I say while resting my head on his shoulder.

"Almost, huh? Well, since I still have my head and other important body parts, I assume that your father doesn't know. Your mother as well?

I breathe a laugh. "I think Mom knew before I did. I warned you that he has a sixth sense about certain things."

He hugs me in strong arms before asking, "Want to get this over with?"

"Want to get punched?" I retort.

Laughing, Jael pushes me back to look directly into my eyes. "You know, I am pretty damn good at dodging, and your father _is_ over thirty years older than me."

"He killed two red dragons single-handedly last week," I state without exaggeration.

That dims my fiancé's smile. "And your mother..."

"He killed only one by himself, but then slaughtered some other random monsters with Dad. They had to release some pent up frustration because of that Galbadian trade agreement. You wouldn't believe the shit those negotiators wanted."

His eyes shifting warily, he clears his throat. "I keep forgetting what family I'm dealing with here."

"Then I won't mention what my brother was up to earlier this week," I say teasingly while resting my arm at his shoulder and stroke my fingers over the shaved design of Quetzalcoatl at the side of his head. "Are you certain you want to marry me now?"

"Never doubted it," Jael replies promptly before treating me to a soft kiss.

After warning him to let me do the talking, I take his hand into mine and reluctantly lead the way to the table which my family has claimed as their own. As we work our way through the crowd, my nervousness evaporates at the unexpected sight of an older man who had joined my parents at some point, the man already started into a hand-waving tale.

"Granddad," I call out while releasing Jael's hand. Rushing to the seated man, I kiss him fondly on the top of his head. "I thought you weren't coming in until morning."

"I caught a late train," he states with sparking green eyes, a truly ageless feature of my grandfather. For eighty-three, he looks incredible for his years. His dark gray hair is far shorter than in the pictures I've seen of his soldier days and his limp is a permanent feature instead of coming and going with his nervousness, but he still leads a fairly active life while writing his books. With a youthful smile, he leans back to glance over my body. "My, you look amazing. Absolutely radiant."

"Thank you, Granddad," I say with a smile, hiding a wince at the term typically associated with pregnant woman.

"I'm serious! You look lovely. Did you do something with your hair?"

"Dad," my mother scolds lightly, his cool gaze then shifting in my direction. "Was there something you needed?"

Recognizing the opportunity he was giving me, I step back and blindly grab onto Jael's hand for the support he freely gives me. "Well... there's something I've been meaning to tell everyone..." Pausing a moment, I notice Mom slip his hand over my father's thigh in a subtle restraining move. "I... I'm pregnant."

The first to react is my grandfather as he jumps up from his seat with unusual energy for his age. He wraps an arm around both Jael and me before profusely giving us his good wishes and demands for weekends with his unborn great-grandchild. But that comes to an abrupt end when we're all startled by the sound of shattering glass. As Granddad steps to the side while leaving his arm around my shoulders, I get a clear view of my father holding onto the stem of his champagne glass, its flute snapped off and broken on the floor.

"How did you get pregnant, Azura?" Dad asks in what Isan has always referred to as the Commander voice.

Mom answers for me. "Probably in the usual way. She is a young lady in a serious relationship."

A quiet growl leaves my father as he glares at Jael.

"Stop that, Dad. This happened because of _two_ people who got careless."

The blond man shifts his gaze to me, his expression softening. "Why couldn't you have waited?"

His disappointed tone cuts right through me, and it must show on my face since Jael steps closer to press his body against mine in silent support. I squeeze his hand in thanks, but I can't manage much more than that. I know that Dad wanted me to be the one Almasy who had a “traditional” family, and while I certainly didn't plan for this to happen, I still feel like I betrayed him with this.

"Enough," Mom states coolly at my father, and then gets up from his chair to stand before me. "Are you happy?"

I smile weakly. "Scared as hell, but yes, I'm very happy. I don't have any regrets about this."

He huffs. "You obviously haven't had morning sickness yet."

My smile widens at the implied acceptance, and if I have Mom on my side, I know that my father will be soon to follow. Though I imagine he'll hold a grudge against Jael for years to come.

"Don't mind your father," Granddad says while squeezing his arm around my shoulders. "You'll always be his little girl and nothing will change his desire to protect you."

"Thanks, Granddad."

With a final squeeze, he releases his hold on me. "But now I have to find Kiros and Ward to tell them the great news. They don't show it, but they missed having a little one around as much as I have." During his exit, my grandfather passes behind Jael and claps a hand against his shoulder. "Good luck with this one in the coming months. She's an Almasy through and through."

Jael chuckles at the warning. "I'm looking forward to it."

Distracted with watching Granddad leave, I'm surprised when strong arms wrap around me, but I instantly relax at the smell and feel of my mother's closeness. I return the hug with my free arm and clutch onto the back of his shirt.

"We will always love and support you," Mom whispers against my ear. "Nothing will ever change that."

"I love you, too, Mom. And I never meant to hurt either of you--"

He promptly shushes me and steps back to look at me with those unreadable eyes of his. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Recognizing the order for what it was, I join my parents at their table with Jael taking the seat next to me. His hand settles on my thigh and strokes in small, soothing motions. Hyne, I'm so lucky to end up with someone who can keep a cool head around people who are powerful in both the physical and political senses of the word.

"How far along are you?" my mother asks, straight to the point as usual.

"I'm guessing six weeks, but I haven't checked with Dr. Takamura yet."

"You're _guessing_?" Dad asks angrily, but is promptly smacked in the back of his head by Mom.

"Do I need to remind you how many times you fucked me before I turned twenty?" the brunet asks sharply, startling my fiancé judging by his tightened grip on my leg, but his expression shows little of that shock.

"But you're a guy," my father mutters lamely.

Shaking his head, Mom returns his gaze to me. "So, are you going to visit Kentaro while you're in town?"

With a held back smile, I say, "Well, I have more news, actually. I've been talking with my superiors and they have finally considered an idea of mine that I've been pushing for a year now. They are currently going through plans to expand, and coming this fall, _Timber Maniacs_ will have an office here in Esthar."

A stunned look replaces my mother's typically neutral expression. "You mean..."

"I'm coming home," I state happily, mostly because I finally stumped the Estharian president. "And before you say anything, I really do want it this way. I've miss my family here, and I can't imagine anyone else except Dr. Takamura delivering my baby. And Jael will be able to spend more time with his SeeD friends. This is something I've been wanting for a long time."

"Azura..." Mom says, clearly overwhelmed for this brief moment. But that soon passes as he straightens and regains his composure. "Whatever help you need, just ask."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll take you up on that offer when we start looking at homes in the area. Oh, and don't tell anyone else just yet. I want to get through the wedding without Granddad shoving brochures under my nose at every opportunity."

My mother smiles in his way, completely understanding the overzealous nature of his father. He then glances briefly at the dance floor before meeting my eyes once more. "Go enjoy your night. It seems we'll have plenty of chances to talk at a later time."

With a relieved smile, I nod and promptly stand. "You know, I haven't seen you two dance tonight."

Mom huffs and waves his hand in a dismissing manner, but I know the damage has been done judging by the look my father gives him. I'll give Dad two songs before he finally wears down my mother and convinces him that occupying him with a dance would keep him from killing a certain SeeD soldier.

Laughing, I run off with my fiancé and easily slip into his arms for a simple slow dance. One of these days, I'll have to teach him the fancier moves, but for now, I only crave his closeness.

"That wasn't so bad," Jael states softly.

"I have a feeling it's the calm before the storm, but such is the life of an Almasy. We can't do anything the easy way."

Chuckling, he holds me tighter. "Sounds like fun."

"You have no idea."

 

{Continued}


	2. Chapter 2

[Squall]

“Thank you, Eve. I apologize for the sudden change in plans.”

A tittering laugh sounds over the phone, something that is hard to associate to my latest security head. With the body of a wendigo and the face of a blue dragon, Eve Stronghold is the furthest thing from a refined lady, but she somehow manages to sound and act like one. <”Mr. President, it’s my job to handle sudden changes. We’ll be prepared for your arrival, not that Belsad is exactly a dangerous place.>

“Still, I appreciate it. Let me know how to repay you.”

<”Well, if you’re offering, how about a chance to spar your husband? I think I’ve finally figured out a way to get the upper-hand on him.”>

I smile at how each new generation of SeeDs holds the same desire to defeat the former Sorceress Knight, not that any of them remember him that way. These days, many of these kids weren’t even born until years after that ugly stain in his past. No, defeating Seifer has become some strange badge of achievement to the younger generation; meanwhile, given my history of repeatedly defeating the gunblade master, I somehow gained an untouchable reputation which is fine by me. I haven’t had the time to train like I did in my mercenary years and I’d hate to embarrass Seifer if I was defeated too easily.

“You’ve already beaten Seifer once,” I remind the young woman. “You wouldn’t be the head of my personal security team otherwise.”

<”I beat him _once_ out of over twenty attempts. At the minimum, I want to get into the double-digit percentile before I can feel truly qualified to protect the Almasy family.”>

“Then you have my blessing. In any case, Seifer will likely be bored and it’ll be safer to have him spar against one of our own and not a Belsadian officer.”

Her light laugh sounds again. <”I know better than to argue against your experience. Thank you, Mr. President, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”>

I tap the phone to end the call and slip the device into the hidden pocket of my tuxedo before I step through the open doors that lead into the noise-filled ballroom of the Presidential Palace.

The expansive room is brimming with a ridiculous assortment of people: attentive reporters ready for a story, soldiers ranging from cadets to veterans, and politicians from countries around the world, all here to witness the latest “Wedding of the Century”. Most of the attendees are close friends and relations to the wedded pair, but as an unfortunate consequence of being my daughter, Azura was also forced to invite the sort who always attend state functions whether they are truly wanted or not. Despite the mixed company, there have been only a few heated conversations, the good behavior likely encouraged by numerous weapons worn openly for a SeeD wedding, and if the attendees know what is good for them, it’ll stay that way.

Even considering the large ensemble, it’s a simple matter to locate my daughter and her new husband as they do their rounds and coax people onto the dance floor. While horribly cliché, my little girl makes a lovely bride. Avoiding the traditional white given her pregnancy, now four months in, Azura’s wedding gown is a simple sleeveless design with cream-colored fabric bearing a soft green floral pattern to match her eyes. Gifted from Seifer and me, her emerald necklace and earrings sparkle each time her head lifts from joyful laughter. More notable, however, is a ring made of diamonds set in adamantine that shines from her left hand, a hand that tends to rest on her slightly rounded stomach whether she realizes it or not.

Jael eventually pulls aside his bride and drapes a silk shawl of dark green over her bare arms, a gentlemanly gesture that Azura allows with a humoring smile. From somewhere in the ballroom, there is the faint chime of silverware against glass, it quickly followed by more rings of glassware that demand for a kiss from the newlyweds. Never one to disappoint, Azura smiles brightly before placing her hand at Jael’s neck and pulling him down for a drawn-out kiss, the act earning themselves a few whooping calls from the SeeDs in the room. It doesn’t seem to matter that this is easily the fifteenth time tonight they have indulged in a kiss. Frankly, I’m amazed Seifer hasn’t done something embarrassing and destructive to bring an end to the spectacle.

Confident that my daughter has complete control over the reception, I turn my attention to the back of the ballroom and locate Kalen standing in a quiet corner. The young man is dressed in a horrible pale green tuxedo, Kalen dragged into his maid-of-honor role with a minimal amount of kicking and screaming. The color may have worked for the other bride maids, but the mint shade doesn’t favor Kalen in the least. I can only hope that Azura was suffering from a reduction in mental capacity from her pregnancy when she thought it would be a brilliant idea.

I walk slowly toward my grandson, eventually realizing that he isn’t so much standing in the corner but propped against the walls to keep from falling. His dark blue eyes that are usually wide open with curiosity are narrowed to sleepy slits as they focus on Azura’s progress through the reception. The circles under his eyes are dark and ugly, the sight of which burning my heart as I realize how much he looks like Isan these days. Isan may be beyond my help, but Kalen is too young to be afflicted with the same soul-crushing exhaustion.

“They look good together,” I comment when Kalen doesn’t seem to notice me.

Kalen jumps at my voice, his head snapping in my direction and his eyes wide as he stares at me. Given his level of surprise, I imagine he feels like I had appeared from thin air, and if he’s truly that exhausted, my interference in his life is past due.

“Grandmom,” Kalen breathes as he relaxes and attempts a smile. “Wasn’t Granddad looking for you earlier? Something about a lost bet?”

I huff at the suggestion. “He cheated, so I’ve refused to accept his terms.”

“You say that as if it matters to Granddad,” Kalen comments with a truer smile, knowing enough about our bets to understand that it’s safest to avoid details and that Seifer is insufferable when he thinks he has won.

“Seifer can wait,” I state even as I turn slightly so that I have a better view of the ballroom and, therefore, reduce any chance of a sneak attack by the persistent blond. “I want to speak to you about something.”

Kalen hums out his permission, his eyelids already starting to droop again.

“It’s about Kentaro.”

Against my assumption, Kalen shows a tired smile at the prompt. “You mean Dr. Takamura’s impending engagement tonight?”

Surprised, I study the young man’s face in the attempt to understand his true feelings, but all I can see is his exhaustion and the dull light to his eyes.

“It’s okay, Grandmom. Yes, I had a crush on him…a ten-year-long crush,” he concedes at my raised eyebrow, “but looking back, it was something more of a habit rather than anything honest. I owed him so much between everything he’s done for Mom and how he helped me get into one of the best medical programs in the world… I think at some point I confused gratitude for love and never really questioned it.”

“It could have been both,” I say carefully.

“Maybe, but… It’s right that Dr. Takamura is with Kaelyn. She challenges him and, I know that it’ll sound weird, but he smiles less because of her. He used to be too easy with his smiles, as if they didn’t matter beyond appeasing a patient. But now he saves some of his smiles for her, and it’s perfect.”

I stare at the child who reminds me a little too much of my younger self, a person who did everything for the happiness of others and didn’t focus enough on his own needs.

“Anyway,” Kalen says with a stretch of his neck, “I’m too busy with my studies and research. It’s not like I have time for much else.”

“About that—“

“I’m so _close_ , Grandmom,” Kalen interrupts with the first hint of life to his eyes. “At least, I think I am. It’s just there are so many angles to attack from, and it’s hard to know which direction will lead me to the right answer. If I focus on the wrong path, it’ll waste time and Mom…” He rubs the palm of his hand against his eyes. “I promised that I would make Mom healthy again, but I don’t know _how_.”

“If there was a simple solution, somebody would have discovered it by now,” I state as a reminder that Kalen isn’t the only person who has tackled this problem to save Seveyn from his own magic

“But I _promised_ —“

“And an Almasy never makes a promise that he can’t keep. So I’ve heard,” I interrupt with a dry tone. “But what you don’t understand, Kalen, is that you are also cursed by Loire blood and our poor luck to have hopeless situations dropped onto our laps. A Loire will always fight with all of his heart, and while we somehow manage to win more often than not, occasionally a hopeless situation is just that: without hope.”

Dark blue eyes waver at my words. “No…No, Mom’s situation isn’t hopeless.”

“Perhaps, but it’s also looking for the tiniest glimmers of hope that keeps a Loire fighting the impossible,” I say with a regretful sigh. “It’s what can break a man if he isn’t careful.”

Kalen closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. “I know I look rough—“ I scoff at the understatement, earning a wince from the young man. “Okay, I look terrible, and trust me, Azura has already complained about me ruining her wedding photos. But I’m fine. This is nothing compared to what Mom endures.”

“Perhaps, but Seveyn wants more for you. The family wants more for you.”

Kalen frowns before directing a suspicious glare at me. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“You aren’t and it’s affecting your work whether you realize it or not.” I take a step in front of my grandson and cross my arms in readiness for an argument. “Tomorrow, you are coming with your grandfather and me to Belsad. Pack for ten days in warm weather.”

His eyes widened to a ridiculous state, as if I was announcing his execution instead of a vacation on a tropical island country. “I _can’t_ …I have my internship and my _research_ —“

“I’ve already spoken with the hospital, and while they speak highly of your work, the nurses have apparently started a petition for you to take some greatly needed time off. And as for your research, you need time to clear the mess in your mind. How do you expect to form a strategy when you can barely stand?”

“But… _ten days_? Mom doesn’t have—“

“Don’t doubt your mother, Kalen,” I warn coolly. “The moment you doubt his strength, he will lose.”

Anger flashes across his face, an expression that would be more threatening if Kalen hadn’t chosen the path of a healer. Still, it’s nice to see the burn of his Almasy blood on occasion.

“You are coming,” I state with the clear suggestion that I don’t care if he comes willingly or bound in whatever method Seifer prefers.

His stubbornness faltering, Kalen attempts to bargain, “I can understand a day or two, but ten days? You and Granddad will be busy attending that conference all week. There’s no reason for me to be there.”

“Except to _rest_ ,” I remind him as I turn my back to the young man and start to walk away. “Be at the airport by 0600. If you’re late, your grandfather will be given complete freedom to retrieve you as he likes.”

Kalen makes a choked sound before a tame, “Understood, sir,” comes from the beaten boy.

“Good answer.”

That task done, I make my way back to the main event with a vague hope to reach my daughter without interruption. I reach the first cluster of dining tables when a warm arm snakes around my waist and halts my forward movement entirely as I’m pulled back into a large body. I’d like to say that the loud music kept me from hearing Seifer’s approach, but truthfully, my defenses stopped recognizing Seifer as a threat too many years ago.

“Considering how the boy is currently knocking the back of his head against a sturdy wall, I assume that you succeeded in your kidnapping plans?”

I hum in light agreement, enjoying the feel of Seifer’s lips against the back of my ear.

“Good. He looks worse than a slime-covered hairball that a behemoth threw up and then sneezed on for the heck of it.”

I glance back at the blond, curious at where he came up with that overly detailed comparison.

Seifer smirks and explains, “Zell sent me some footage from the last SeeD exam. Some poor cadet learned the hard way that high level monsters don’t give a fuck about lowly students.” With a chuckle at the apparent memory of the video, Seifer then glances back at Kalen. “That tux of his doesn’t help matters. Who the hell did Azura torture to have that Hyne-awful thing made?”

“She swears that it looked better in the catalog.”

The blond scoffs, but loses some of his humor when resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m furious with you, by the way.”

Uncertain what the man could be complaining about this time, I simply reply, “Is that so?”

“There was a blissfully peaceful time in my life when I only had my skin to worry about, and almost everything could be solved with a gunblade or a long nap. Then you came along and gave me this fucking family to worry about day and night. Tell me, Squally-boy, how am I supposed to help this kid when I only know how to mock people and punch them in the face?”

“You somehow manage. You always do,” I say while twisting in his hold. I look up at my husband, noting the streaks of white within golden blond hair and the wrinkles at his mischievous green eyes, and I’m amazed at my fortune to grow old with this infuriating man. Placing a hand at the aged choker around his neck, I ask him in return, “But why should I be the only one to blame here? I recall your participation plenty of times over the years.”

“Please, you know better than that. You’re the one who always made the hard choices. I was just along for the ride.”

I smirk up at the blond, both of us knowing that I only made the decisions I did because Seifer was involved. There was never the option to destroy a child partially created by his DNA, and every choice since then gave me the positions and power to best protect Seifer from sorceress supporters and haters alike. No, Seifer holds more of the blame than he will ever admit to owning, but that’s fine by me.

Sensing my thoughts, Seifer takes a hold of my left hand and presses a kiss against the ring he gifted to me almost two decades ago. “Thank you for making my life complicated, love.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” I reply with an unavoidably fond smile at my husband.

Before I recognize the trap for what it is, Seifer’s hand tightens around mine. “Now, about that dance…”

“No. I did not cry during my daughter’s wedding.”

“There was a tear.”

“There wasn’t one until you poked at my eye”

“Bullshit, I was just wiping it away before someone else noticed it.”

“… …”

“You can’t deny it, love. There _was_ a tear.”

“I may have been… moved by the ceremony, but that was only because you kept whispering in my ear about our baby having a baby and how the kids don’t need us anymore. And despite your best efforts, I did not cry.”

Seifer doesn’t release my hand, but pulls back to spin me around. “Dance with me.”

I groan at the hopeful look to his eyes. “What is it with you and these bets to make me dance with you?”

He smiles brightly at the question. “I like reminding the rest of the world that you belong to me, and it’s best to remind them with style.”

“Are you certain this isn’t to humiliate me for the sake of your ego?”

“Never,” Seifer replies sharply before jerking me forward into a kiss.

I allow the open display for the length of a few fast heartbeats before I pull back and look up into poisonous green eyes. Damn me to Hell, why haven’t I built up an immunity to that gaze after all of these years? “One song, my choice.”

Seifer smiles like a child who had gotten Christmas early. “I can agree to that.”

“And you aren’t allowed to tell anyone, _anyone_ , that I cried. Understood?”

“As you command, my love.”

* * *

 

_Bound in darkness, Squall choked with fear._

_His unhelpful mind returned to the events of the Time Compression, lost and abandoned within a void beyond his understanding. Squall began to question if he had ever truly escaped the first time, if Seifer had returned to him and still wanted him, if they had formed an impossible family by twisting Ultimecia’s curse into something amazing and beautiful. He didn’t know if any of that was real or just a figment created by the darkness that surrounded him and threatened to drown him…_

_And then a warm hand embraced his and a familiar voice called his name._

_Encouraged, Squall focused to calm his breath and recognize that the darkness was little more than his eyes being closed. With more effort than he could recall in years, he forced his eyelids to lift despite their heaviness and endured the blinding light that started to bleed through._

_Squall stared without seeing for several seconds, his sight eventually coming into focus on the gathering around his apparent hospital bed. To his right, Isan was slumped in his chair with Seveyn resting against his shoulder and Kalen curled up in his lap, both fast asleep. Beyond the foot of his bed, Laguna was hunched with his arms resting on his thighs and his hands folding and unfolding in an unsettled manner. Kiros sat to his side with a hand at Laguna’s leg while Ward leaned against the wall with Azura asleep in his large arms. And to Squall’s left…_

_“There you are, you asshole.”_

_Squall stared up at the weakly smirking Seifer, the man still holding onto his hand and stroking his ring with a calloused thumb. Greens eyes were red from lacking sleep and moist from both relief and anger, reminding Squall of a lifetime ago when Isan had been born into the world._

_“…love you,” Squall whispered in memory of that day, his lips chapped and sore as he forced a small smile._

_Eyes first widening in surprise, Seifer then laughed loudly with a release of his worried tension. “Hyne damn you, I can’t win even when you’re half-dead,” Seifer commented with a smile that made his eyes crinkle, one of many signs that the gunblade master was aging._

_The laugh immediately woke the others from their thoughts and sleep, everyone’s attention snapping to Squall with a level of hope in their eyes that made him wonder just how “half-dead” he had been. A mixture of “Mom,” “Son,” and “Grandmom” reached his ears as his family moved closer to the bed._

_Feeling weighed down by his exhaustion and unknown injuries, Squall decided that moving wouldn’t be the best option. Instead, he took in the sight of his family and said a muted, “Sorry… to worry…”_

_Laughs and negations were quick to follow the statement as various hands touched his blanket-covered legs. Azura began to cry and demanded for “Mommy,” to which Ward brought the seven-year-old to the side of the bed. Azura wrapped her arms tightly around Squall’s head despite Seifer’s stern warnings to be careful. With effort, Squall placed his arm around the young girl’s back, careful of the wires and tubes that resisted the movement._

_“Don’t die, Mommy,” Azura demanded in a harsh whisper._

_Squall didn’t reply, only held the girl a little tighter until Seifer answered for him._

_“Not today, kitten. Mommy promises.”_

_Azura squeezed once more in reluctant acceptance of the response. She then sat back on her heels and frowned deeply at the bedridden man. “You made everyone sad. You shouldn’t do that.”_

_Squall smiled faintly at the logic of children. “It wasn’t… my choice…”_

_Her expression faltering on the edge of crying, Azura bent forward again to hide her face against Squall’s shoulder. She muttered something against the hospital gown which Squall translated into meaning he wasn’t allowed to scare her again. He wished his life gave him the luxury to make that pledge._

_From either medication or simply because he wasn’t a young man anymore, Squall felt a wave of exhaustion crash through his body. He fought against the necessity of rest, and with a silent request, he glanced up at his hovering husband._

_“Alright,” Seifer began, his lips quirked into an indulging smile, “we have all confirmed with our own eyes that Squall is alive. Now, how about we give the guy some breathing room and you all get the hell out of here.”_

_Isan laughed weakly at the demand. “You just want Mom for yourself.”_

_“There is that, but honestly, none of us exactly smell fresh and the kids could use some time away from this room,” Seifer replied in a somber tone. “Speaking of which, can you watch over our kitten for the rest of today?”_

_Before Isan or Seveyn could reply, Laguna spoke up, “Azura is mine tonight. If you’re keeping me away from my son, I’m kidnapping your daughter and filling her with ice cream and late night TV.”_

_Squall breathed a laugh at the apparent punishment. “Thank you… Dad…”_

_Laguna flashed a broad smile at his son before he waved over Azura, the girl reluctant to leave her mother before she was gathered into her grandfather’s arms. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, still hiding the evidence of her tears._

_“We’ll be back,” Isan said as he stood and placed a firm hand at Squall’s now damp shoulder. “And be nice to Dad. He’s had a rough week.”_

_Squall stared at his son, wondering when Isan had become an adult with a keen eye. It was nothing spoken between Seifer and Squall, but they held a silent understanding that they were too close, unhealthily so, and yet there was no desire to retreat from the consuming love. Instead, they spoke of plans for their children in the event Seifer and Squall’s shared death, never separated. Never again. Squall knew it was selfish and unfair to their loved ones, but he couldn’t see any other ending for him and his husband._

_Perhaps guessing those thoughts, Isan smiled weakly and said, “I love you, Mom, and thank Hyne you’re hard to kill.”_

_Squall matched the smile and replied, “Love you, too…”_

_The room emptied slowly, Squall noting how everyone dragged their feet as if waiting for permission to stay, but Squall had questions that needed answers._

_Once the door closed, Squall took a steadying breath and looked up into watchful green eyes. “What happened?”_

_“You were giving that speech about Centura and our agreement to form a strategic team for the advancement in medical technologies. It wasn’t supposed to be a long speech anyway, but less than three minutes in, a sniper fired four times. One bullet grazed your head and a second landed right here,” Seifer said with light touch on the left side of Squall’s chest, just below the collar bone. “The bullet held a poison from some unknown origin that conflicted with healing magic and was slowly killing you. The doctors and healers struggled for almost a day until Takamura came up with the insane idea to filter your blood through a pig. A wild pig that thrived on fields dripping in poison magic.”_

_Squall briefly closed his ideas, recalling urgent voices and someone calling the family doctor crazy and out of his depth. He then remembered the cool touch of metal… “Did I stab someone… with a scalpel?”_

_“No one we care about,” Seifer said with a proud smirk, “and now people know better than to doubt the good doctor in front of us.”_

_While uncertain if that was the actual lesson learned that day, Squall moved on. “What about… the other shots?”_

_Sobering, Seifer replied, “Dr. Hastings was killed, a bullet to the skull. The last shot missed its target.”_

_His eyes becoming cold and flinty, Squall stared at his husband. “You?”_

_“I had some warning compared to you.”_

_Ice burned in Squall’s chest as his lips pulls back into a rare snarl. “Was this Deling?”_

_“We haven’t confirmed it, but the Galbadians Against Sorceresses has already taken credit for the shooting.” With a snort, Seifer couldn’t help adding, “Honestly, who knowingly uses the acronym of GAS and thinks it’ll be taken seriously?_

_Recognizing the attempt to soothe his anger, Squall closed his eyes and focused on his breathing until the machines attached to his body stopped making alert sounds that would have brought in an army of nurses and doctors. In that state, his mind turned to the vulnerabilities of his family and loved ones._

_“Is Rinoa safe?”_

_“She and the entire Tilmitt clan is here, taking up half the guest wing. Irvine and his boys have already taken it upon themselves to scout out snipper points and shut them down.”_

_Squall calmed at the knowledge that Rinoa, the most well-known sorceress, was safe in their custody. He briefly spent a moment to think of Edea, the motherly woman lost to a disease over two years past, before he moved onto the other possible targets. Seveyn was safe next to Isan, Squall had no doubt, but another possibility tore at his nerves._

_“Have you noticed…” Squall began as he slowly opened his eyes, “Kalen…”_

_“That the kid is aging prematurely after only seven years, or that those white hairs of his means something else?”_

_Vincent Deling wasn’t a new threat. The son of Vincer Deling was a young witness when Ultimecia in Edea’s body coldly murdered the former President of Galbadia. Vincent never forgave the fact that Edea wasn’t held accountable. For years, Squall had known of the man’s hate and his decision to rid the world of sorceresses along with any other innocent who held unnatural abilities. Squall knew of the slowly growing group under his leadership, but they had seemed nothing more dangerous than the groups before them. Relatively harmless…_

_Until now._

_“Find them. Kill them.”_

_Green eyes flashed with excited dark light, and Squall briefly saw the onetime Sorceress Knight in his husband’s face. “How would you like it done?”_

_“Impaling was good enough for his father.”_

_Seifer lifted the hand in his hold and pressed a firm kiss against the silver ring. “As you command, my love.”_

* * *

 

[Kalen]

With a groan and stiff limbs, I roll over onto my side and stare at the door that is making a horrible sound. An annoyingly loud knocking sound. A knock in the distinct rhythm that my grandfather uses as his warning that he is coming into the room whether he’s invited or not, and it’s up to the occupant about how simple the process will be for everyone involved. I then glance at a nearby clock and note the surprisingly reasonable hour, almost nine in the morning.

When the knock suddenly halts, I jerk up into a sitting position and call out, “I’m up, I’m up, just give me--“

The door swings open to reveal my grandfather dressed in his version of business attire: a tight-fitting gray business suit made with blade-resistant fabric engineered by the greatest minds in Esthar, a high-collared white shirt that faintly glimmers with magic resistant wards, and shiny black dress shoes that hide a blade in each sole. If anyone had doubts about the depths of my grandfather’s paranoia, they would only have to witness his current attire… not that most people would recognize the armor and weapons for what they are.

“Good, you’re up.”

I resist glancing down at the bedsheet that just barely covers my naked body, and instead glare at the man and his smug smile. “An amazing coincidence.”

“Don’t be bitter, kid. Your grandmother and I have meetings for the next few days, and the first of those meetings starts in fifteen minutes. I waited as long as I could before I had to check on your lazy ass.”

“I thought I was here to rest.”

He waves a hand at the detail as if unimportant. “Keesa, come in here and meet your reason for living over the next three days.”

A woman peaks into the room, smart enough to know the timing is awkward and yet unable to refuse a command by the Chief Advisor to the Estharian President. She looks barely out of the Seed exams, more likely my same age. Light brown skin with hints of makeup and teased black hair shows she isn’t the typical hardcore soldier my grandfather prefers. Then again, Belsad isn’t exactly a high security type of environment, which means a more dangerous looking SeeD would only frighten tourists and upset the Belsad officials over nothing.

Still, I can’t help to notice the finer details of my grandfather’s selected babysitter.

Glancing up at the older man, I ask with heavy sarcasm, “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll get her pregnant?”

The soldier girl blushes at the question while also trying to show an insulted expression. Trying, but not doing a very admirable job of it. She isn’t the first SeeD soldier I have offended over years, and she won’t be the last.

“Give your old Granddad a break, huh? I just lost my little girl to a lying bastard I personally selected to protect her. I’m not about to make the same mistake again by giving you someone who fits your checklist.”

“Jael didn’t lie,” I say through a yawn, already hearing this story before. “He was always bisexual.”

“When I interviewed him, the guy had a long-term boyfriend and no observable interest in Azura. Quite a coincidence that he dumped the poor bastard in exchange for the President’s daughter within a year.”

“Not a coincidence when his boyfriend was a lazy asshole who only used Jael to get further into the SeeD program than he could have done alone.” When the blond directs an annoyed glare at me, I remind him, “I’m on Team JAz, or did the shirts that Aunt Selphie printed for Azura’s bachelorette party not make that obvious enough?”

My grandfather mutters under his breath about the stupidity of the shirts and something about lighter fluid, but I’m not about to dig deeper into that one. I’m not much of a T-shirt person, but Aunt Selphie did a good job on it and I like how it makes Azura blush and huff. Like hell I’m going to let my grandfather destroy that easy source of entertainment.

“Alright, I get the routine,” I say with hands raised in surrender. “As long as you and Grandmom are busy, I have a babysitter, and I’ll be a good little boy so that I can stay up late and have ice cream later.”

Sighing at my sarcasm, my grandfather places a heavy hand at my head and ruffles my already bed-messed hair. “You’re too smart to have an attitude like that.”

“I wonder who I learned it from,” I say in return, unable to completely hide my smile as I push aside his arm and look up at the gunblade master. We don’t have much in common, my grandfather coming from soldier stock and a harsh background, but he doesn’t fault me for it. Instead, there is usually a fascinated gleam to his eyes whenever I talk about my studies or research, as if he can hardly believe that I’m part of the Almasy bloodline. If I didn’t have my father’s same connection to the Guardian Forces, I wonder if my grandfather would have insisted upon DNA testing by now.

An unsubtle cough sounds from the doorway, only an elbow and a foot viewable of my grandfather’s latest assistant and victim. Julian Rey is a year younger and a foot shorter than me, a failed SeeD cadet who decided that politics might be more of his thing. He’ll likely reexamine his options after a few more months under my grandfather, but I have to give the guy credit for lasting almost a month to-date.

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” my grandfather complains at the reminder that he has other responsibilities. With a serious gaze focused on me, he says, “I know you don’t want to be here, kid, but do me a favor and give your mind a chance to recover for a while. I know it’s asking a lot and I know you’ve seen the rest of the family push things too far on many occasions, but the body and mind are two very different things. There are ways to heal a broken bone, not so much a damaged brain.”

I frown and look to the side, not upset at the message, but at apparently worrying my family to the point of kidnapping me. “I know I haven’t been getting the optimal amount of sleep, but really, it’s not that—“

“Just tell me you’ll try,” my grandfather interrupts, quiet and pleading.

My eyes widen at the tone I’ve only heard once from the proud man, from the time my grandmother lay dying on a hospital table. While I refuse to believe I’m nearly in the same state, I know better than to belittle my grandfather like that. Reluctantly, I nod in agreement to his request.

“Say it, kid.”

“I’ll try, Granddad. I promise.”

Satisfied, he lands a light punch against my shoulder. “Good, now I can tell Squall that there’s nothing for him to worry about. Be nice to the girl and don’t anything too stupid while you’re on the island. Alright?”

I smile slightly at the apparent permission that there are some stupid things I’m allowed to do. “Understood, sir.”

After a half-assed salute, my grandfather leaves in a quick stride, something that hasn’t change from his SeeD Commander days according to my father. He doesn’t pause for his assistant, but accustomed to the treatment and their tardiness, Julian hurries behind the Chief Advisor. My babysitter, however, is far less prepared for the sudden departure and stands awkwardly at the still open door.

I purposefully adjust the blanket seated across my unclothed lap. “Anything else, SeeD?”

She blinks and automatically replies, “My name is Keesa.”

“Sure, whatever, but that doesn’t help me to get dressed any faster.”

Her blush returns, and with a rushed jumble of words that don’t really make sense, she backs out of the room and closes the door with a hurried slam.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and look toward the curtain-covered window. I saw something of the island and beach beyond the window last night, but it was a little too dark and I was far too tired to appreciate the view. Still, the beach sounds like as good of a plan as any, and with my decision made, I get out of bed and pad toward the suitcase I had dumped into a corner, unopen and hopefully containing at least one pair of swim trunks.

~ > < ~

Sun-warmed sand feels good beneath my feet as I walk down the stretch of beach surrounded by dark rocks and pale blue water. There are more pleasant, tourist-friendly beaches on the island country compared to this one, but those are a little too crowded with people and screaming children for my current mood. The place isn’t empty with a handful of surfers on the waves beyond the rocks and a scattering of beach-goers lounging on the sand, but if I close my eyes, it almost feels like I’m on an island all by myself.

Almost, except for the unsteady footfalls behind me and quiet curses of an idiot who wore SeeD-issued boots for a relaxed beach stroll.

“If this is too bothersome for you, you can watch me from the boardwalk,” I suggest to the inexperienced bodyguard. “I promise not to go far.”

Keesa huffs. “Headmaster Almasy would hang me by my thumbs if he learned that I let you get more than ten feet away from me.”

“My father is the one who let my grandparents kidnap me. If I’m forced to enjoy myself here, I’d rather do it without a SeeD trailing in my shadow. Do you know how many people have stared at us since we left the hotel?”

I can feel her nervous hesitation before she says, “There was no one suspicious.”

I bite my tongue, already identifying at least three shady people since we stepped out of my hotel room. Either Keesa is hiding the truth from the President’s precious grandson, or she hasn’t been properly trained in the art of being paranoid.

“…May I ask you something?” Keesa questions warily. At my uncaring grunt, she asks, “Do you hate SeeDs for some reason? I mean, your father—“

“My entire family comes from a Garden in one form or another,” I correct before she starts to dig herself into dangerous hole. “So no, I don’t hate SeeDs, not in general. However, I’m not exactly fond of the ones who are forced to play my babysitter while I figure out how to entertain myself.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

Her curiosity assumedly appeased, I look out onto the ocean and the waves crashing against dark rocks. No, I don’t hate the mercenaries, but I’ve learned a few too many times that it’s safer to mistrust a SeeD on first sight before making myself vulnerable to their weapons. Despite the knowledge that Aunt Rinoa, a renown sorceress, helped in the war that led to Ultimecia’s defeat, most mercenaries don’t like magic use outside of what they borrow from potions and Guardian Forces. I don’t understand it, but I assume it’s a control issue and history has proven that sorceresses can’t be easily controlled by mere mortals.

Whatever the case, I have heard slurs against my aunt and veiled threats against my mother, and I want nothing to do with people who would sooner assassinate a magic-user rather than spend the time to determine if their intentions are good.

I can’t afford that type of blind trust.

Our silence holds for the length of a hundred feet, a short-lived moment before my attention is attracted to the frantic waving of young woman, maybe college-aged with fake blonde hair and wearing a loose T-shirt, designer jeans and platform sandals. Not exactly beach wear. I start into a wary jog towards her until I can hear her calls for help and notice the pointing of her hands. Looking to the ocean and just barely past dark rocks, I eventually spot a floundering person losing her battle against the waves.

I rip off my shirt and move directly into a sprint, ignoring the panicked calls of my babysitter. I charge into the surf, and against my hope, the water level deepens quickly from shin-level to over my head, forcing me to swim against the tide. It’s a nerve-wracking moment as I maneuver around sharp rocks and gain a bloody elbow when a wave knocks me to the side.

After a time that feels like too long, I press my foot against the farthest rock and fight against the ocean toward the last sight of a hand before it slips under the waves. I dive into the salty water and swim with everything I have until I spot a blurry shadow and grab hold. Luckily she’s a light thing and fits easily in my arms as I drag us both to the surface, my gasp of inhaling fresh air quickly echoed by harsh coughs from the woman.

Navigating through the rocks is a lot more difficult with the uncooperative weight in my arms, but with her breathing and alive, there isn’t a great rush. Keesa meets me part way with her uniform pants rolled up and the boots gone. She takes the soggy woman and carries her to drier sand where the fake blonde immediately fusses over her and wraps her shirt around shivering shoulders.

“Thank you…” the blonde chokes out between sobs. “ _Thank you_ … for saving my… _dumbass_ sister.”

I nod in acknowledgement before I kneel down in front of the water-logged woman. Dark brown hair sticks to her face, massacre bleeds from her eyes, and a strap of her bikini slips from a bony shoulder. She looks a mess and her expression is miserable with a touch of anger in her gray eyes.

“Aside from the obvious, how do you feel?” I question as I automatically lift her arm and place fingers at her wrist to feel her pulse. “Are you able to breathe easy? Does anything feel injured or sore?”

She looks away before replying tersely, “I’m fine.”

“You almost died!” her sister immediately argues, and when the brunette only huffs in response, the blonde’s face flushes with anger and she lifts a hand with the clear intention to slap her sibling, something I can’t allow.

Snatching her hand, I glare up at the blonde. “Your sister just suffered a trauma and could be injured in unrealized ways, including her head.”

“There’s already something wrong with her head,” the blonde snaps. “She thought she could reach _Hera’wis_ and couldn’t even go 100 meters.”

While the name means nothing to me, Keesa coughs and lifts a hand to her mouth, a horrible attempt to cover her laugh. “ _Hera’wis_? I haven’t heard about that since I was a child.”

I look to the SeeD in silent confusion, wondering if the place was common knowledge.

“ _Hera’wis_ means ‘Wishes of the Heart’,” Keesa begins to explain. “It’s a legendary island that supposedly appears to anyone with a strong wish in their heart. If I remember right, you have to leap from the hand of faith,” she says while pointing at a rock formation that juts out from a cliff side and vaguely looks like an outstretched hand, “and swim toward the sun. If your wish is true and touches the heart, the island will appear beneath your feet and grant your wish before magically sending you home. If your wish is ugly and comes from greed, the island will keep you for eternity.”

Surprised by the amount of detail, I continue to stare at the SeeD.

“I’m Belsadian born,” Keesa says with a small laugh, giving me the final piece of the puzzle as to why my grandfather assigned this fresh soldier as my babysitter. As a native, she would be able to steer me away from the more questionable areas of the island, as well as prevent me from making too many cultural mistakes. What a bother. Apparently I need to have a long discussion with my grandfather to remind him that Azura is the troublemaker and not me.

“It’s not a legend,” the brunette says in a soft but firm voice. At her sister’s scoff, the younger woman looks to me and insists, “Our great-aunt reached the island and begged for the end of Adel. Weeks later, Laguna Loire brought the end to her reign.”

“Aunty Serena is an old woman who has conversations with her parrots. She also thinks that President Almasy and his Head Advisor are the true parents to their kids, as if it was possible between two men.”

While I learned years ago that it wasn’t worth it to react to such comments, Keesa chokes on her laugh and fails a couple of times before stuttering out, “D-does she think they v-visited the island, too?”

The blonde smirks at the apparent joke, but the dark-haired sister pushes up from the ground in anger. “Say whatever you want, but Destin was hurt because of me. If I didn’t do everything, _everything_ possible to help him, I could never forgive myself.”

The humor wiped from her face, the blonde tries to place a hand at her sister’s shoulder, but she’s knocked aside as the brunette storms off.

After allowing her a dramatic moment, I jog up to the young woman and say quickly, “If you start to feel dizzy or nauseous, please go see a doctor. I didn’t see you hit your head, but the waves were pretty strong--“

“I’m not crazy,” she announces stiffy without looking at me.

“Good, because that’s not the kind of doctor you should see for a potential concussion.”

Her lips tighten, and I see the resolve in her expression. I then glance at her slight frame and skimpy bikini, the strap of which still hanging loosely on her arm.

Sighing, I tell her, “It’s a myth that you shouldn’t eat before swimming. Especially if you’re planning on any kind of distance. Next time, eat something light and nourishing, do some stretches to warm up your muscles, maybe a quick run, and then take the dive into the ocean. You’ll be less likely to cramp and have a greater chance of reaching that island of yours.”

She doesn’t reply for a long minute, making me worried that she wasn’t listening and had no intention to take my advice, but then she begins to blink hard and quick, fighting against the moisture of tears. “Thank you.”

I slow down to a halt while she continues her dramatic exit. Her sister jogs past me, grumbling about the trouble of siblings without so much of a glance my way. Another moment later, my babysitter walks up beside me with her boots held up by her fingers curled in the laces.

“So, that’s the beach. Anything else you want to see?”

I offer a light laugh at the attempt of a joke, and after a quick scan of the boardwalk, I nod toward a café-looking place. “How about some coffee and you tell me more about the legends of this island. I have a weak spot when it comes to myths and legends, and I get the feeling that your grandmother knew them all.”

Keesa smiles, the first one I’ve seen from the young woman that doesn’t have the hint of a wince. “She did, but I can’t promise that my memory is as good as hers.”

“We’ll see about that.”

* * *

 

_A young boy of seven lay on the ground, his dark blue eyes scanning an oversized anatomy book under his bent arms. The page was filled with different illustrations of the muscular structure of a male body, joined with small print detailing the medical names of the different muscle groups. Little of the lengthy names meant anything to the boy, but the interweaving red muscle tissue and the glimpses of white ligaments and bone held his interest._

_With a light touch, the boy brushed his fingers across the left side of the illustration’s chest, his eyes following each line of muscle. With his other hand, he pressed his hand against his own chest, wondering how something so complicated-looking could heal after being ripped apart by a bullet._

_“Kalen.”_

_Startled, Kalen shoved up onto his knees and sat back on his heels to stare up at his father standing at the open doorway. Isan Almasy had a small quirk to his lips as he watched his son, but a reddish tinge to his eyes defeated that soft show of humor. Kalen rarely saw his father in an upset state, but it had become too common in the last couple of weeks. And Kalen only knew one reason for his father to look near tears without ever crying._

_“Is Grandma okay? Didn’t he go home with Grandpa?”_

_The curl to his father’s lips quivered and failed before coming back into a weakly prideful grin. “You are one observant little boy,” Isan muttered before saying more clearly, “Your grandmother is fine. In fact, he’s here for a visit. How about you come out and say ‘hello’.”_

_A young, excited smile overcame Kalen’s face before he launched to his feet and ran past his father to the small living area of the Headmaster’s suite. Within two steps of seeing his mother and grandmother seated together, Kalen slowed his pace and lost his excitement over the unexpected meeting. Seveyn was hunched into a defensive position with his arms wrapped around his stomach and his gaze lowered in concerned thought. In contrast, Squall sat with a stiff back and hands resting lightly on his thighs, his right arm slightly closer to his body, closer to where his gunblade would normally be holstered._

_A hand rested on Kalen’s shoulder, making the boy look up at his father. Isan met the questioning gaze without answer before his gaze drifted upwards and his fingers lightly threaded through chocolate brown hair._

_“I never really noticed,” Isan commented as he tugged at a few strands. “I mean, maybe I noticed, but I didn’t think…”_

_“Daddy…?”_

_“Kalen, come here,” Seveyn called softly, opening his arms in a silent plea._

_Worried and confused, Kalen welcomed the invitation into his mother’s arms and hurried to claim the pale-haired man’s lap._

_“I’m sorry,” Severyn whispered into his son’s ear. “I’m so sorry…”_

_“Mommy, what’s wrong?”_

_When no one spoke for several seconds, Squall sighed with the regret of someone taking on a heavy responsibility. “Kalen, you know that your mother is a sorcerer, correct?”_

_“Uh huh, but Daddy told me that it’s a secret.”_

_“As secret as it can be when an entire Garden knows,” Squall comments, “but yes, it’s not something to announce without care. What you don’t know, however, is that your mother isn’t a… well, natural sorcerer.”_

_Fine eyebrows drew into a profoundly confused expression._

_Seveyn hugged his boy and took over. “What your grandmother means is that I wasn’t born with the gift to control magic. Instead, someone did something to me when I was young and gave me this ability.”_

_While his expression relaxed slightly, Kalen asked in continued confusion, “Okay, so?”_

_Seveyn smiled at the blunt question and ran his fingers through dark hair. “Because of what those people did, I’ve been able to do amazing things. Heal people and protect the ones I love… But it comes at a cost.”_

_Understanding lit young eyes. “You’ve been sick.”_

_Surprised, Seveyn gazed down at his son. “You knew?”_

_“Well, you’ve been late to get me from school sometimes, and you don’t look good when you get there. Like when Daddy and Uncle Zell had that hot dog eating contest and Daddy was super sick later.”_

_The reminder of the picnic fiasco from a year earlier brought a smile to pink lips. “Do I really look_ that _bad?”_

_Kalen’s affirmative grunt covered the sound of Isan’s offended huff._

_Losing his humor, Seveyn sighed and admitted, “I’ve been sick, my love, and no one knows how to make me better. Not just yet.”_

_The boy stared in horror at the confession. “Why not? Aren’t they trying?”_

_“Yes, but it’s more complicated than being helped by a cure spell.”_

_Teeth biting into his lower lip, Kalen glanced back at his father and then to his grandmother, both silent and waiting for something. Deep blue eyes returned to the face of his mother. “Why are you telling me this?”_

_“Because you’re a smart boy, too smart sometimes, and we decided that it was best to be honest with you,” Seveyn said while renewing his strokes of longish hair. “Kalen, I’m afraid that you being my son may mean that you inherited my powers. That you may…”_

_When his mother choked on the words, Kalen cautiously guessed, “That I could get sick, too?”_

_Seveyn strongly hugged his son in response, followed by Isan taking a few long strides to kneel next to his husband and child. Isan rested a heavy hand on Kalen’s head and told him, “Only if you recklessly use the powers within you. If you’re careful, it shouldn’t come to that.”_

_“But Mommy… Mommy uses his powers all the time.”_

_“He’ll stop,” Isan stated firmly._

_“He’ll try to be more selective,” Seveyn countered in a stubborn tone._

_Kalen bit his lower lip as his parents glared with silent intensity at each other, and the boy knew it was a matter to be discussed when he wasn’t around to hear the argument. While the depths of the matter eluded him, Kalen knew it was important to his mother to help anyone he could with his magic. The only thing more important was family, and even that occasionally suffered in Seveyn’s need to heal others, as apparent by the approaching argument._

_“What if I make Mommy better?”_

_Startled, his parents stared down at the young boy, and within a moment, both of their expressions relaxed into humoring agreement._

_Annoyed by that look, Kalen reasoned gruffly, “If someone made Mommy this way, but did it wrong, can’t someone else fix him? You always say that I’m too smart. Maybe that’s because I’m supposed to make Mommy better.”_

_Isan sighed out his son’s name and placed a hand on dark brown hair. “That isn’t why we decided to tell you everything. Instead, we want you to recognize that dangerous powers reside in you and that you should avoid using them at all costs. We can’t… We_ won’t _have you risk your life like that.”_

_“But—“_

_Seveyn hugged his son to his chest. “In this, I agree with your father. I’m beyond help, but you’re young and deserve a full life.”_

_His chest burning with emotion beyond his years, Kalen shoved his mother’s arms aside and didn’t care when his swinging elbow landed between his father’s leg. The surprise attack was the only reason Kalen escaped his parents reaching hands and was able to run into the safety of his room. The door closed and locked, Kalen struggled against rapid breaths that increased the burning in his chest and unwanted tears that blurred his vision. He hated the signs that he was the child everyone else saw, even as he wanted desperately to help his mother and do whatever it would take._

_From beyond the door, Kalen heard his parents discussing something with his grandmother, along with several apologies. Eventually there was the telltale signs of parting ways, and Kalen listened specifically for the opening and closing of the entrance to the Commander’s quarters. Knowing his time was limited, Kalen darted for his school bag and retrieved the cell phone that was intended for emergency purposes. As he dialed, he couldn’t imagine a greater emergency._

_After several drawn out rings, a questioning “Hello?” sounded over the line._

_“Grandmom,” Kalen whispered, a hand cupped around the phone._

_A breath of realization was followed by the statement, “Your parents are pretty upset right now.”_

_“That’s their fault,” Kalen pouted, but he quickly moved onto more important matters. “Tell me how to help Mommy. My parents won’t.”_

_Squall sighed into his phone, a sound Kalen recognized well from only a short time earlier when his announcement began the entire mess of Seveyn and his self-destructive magic. Only this time, Squall wasn’t saying the words that needed to be said._

_“Grandmom, I’m not stupid. I know someone else might help Mommy before me, but if I don’t start now, it might be too late. I can’t wait. I can’t do_ nothing _. Daddy always says I have to try before I give up, and like_ really _try.”_

_“… …”_

_“I want to try, Grandmom, but I don’t know how. Please... Please, tell me.”_

_Grumbled words barely sounded over the line, nothing Kalen could understand beyond a complaint about his grandfather and damaged jeans. “What do you think about that anatomy book Granddad Laguna gave you?”_

_“Huh?” Kalen said with a blink, but when no clarifying question came in reply, he looked to the open book and admitted carefully, “It has a lot of words I don’t understand, but I like looking at the pictures. I didn’t know there was so much…_ stuff _inside people.”_

_“Indeed,” Squall agreed with a hint of laughter, and after a moment of thought, he said, “You are unique, Kalen. Some people like Rinoa will try to heal Seveyn with magic; meanwhile, others like Dr. Takamura will try using medicine. They will try with all of their ability, but they may fail. Meanwhile if you study hard, you might become the only person left who will be able to use both methods.”_

_“You mean...like, become a doctor who uses magic?” At the agreeing hum, Kalen inhaled in surprise. “But Mommy and Daddy said I can’t use magic. That it’ll hurt me.”_

_“It likely will.”_

_Confused and afraid, Kalen clutched harder onto his phone. “But it might save Mommy?”_

_“It might. Or hopefully, he’ll be healed long before it comes to that.”_

_Kalen heard the words Squall wasn’t saying, and while fear made his chest hurt again, he said resolutely, “I’ll make Mommy better again. I promise. Whatever it takes.”_

_Squall sighed as if no other response could have been expected. “Then learn, young Almasy. Learn, become strong in mind and heart, and be everything the rest of us can’t.”_

* * *

 

A chilly, predawn breeze flows across my body, causing goosebumps even as I jog at a good pace along the same beach from yesterday. With no music or company to distract me, my mind returns to that time when I was a kid and made that easy promise to save my mother from the unknown darkness that threatened him.

Some people say I recklessly sacrificed my childhood to books and classes, Azura being the loudest of that lot, but I found warped enjoyment in mastering academics as much as my grandparents and father mastered the gunblade. I’m still a year away from becoming a fully licensed doctor, but I’ve been given the freedom to research my mother’s condition and that is my only true goal. As my grandmother predicted, medicine and magic joined together has led to more progress than each alone, but there is still no solution. No glowing beacon of hope. No strikes of lightning nor inspiration. Just a long, tedious path of trial and error, and Hyne, there have been so many errors and so little time…

I pick up my pace as I set sight on the rock formation that looks more like an outreached hand from this distance compared to when Keesa pointed it out yesterday. The Hand of Faith. The guiding hand of those with true wishes. A legend, a fantasy, and the first flicker of hope I’ve had for months.

I know it’s foolish, and I know that my grandparents will be furious when they discover the note I’ve left behind, but they are the ones to drag me to this place and its tales of desperate wishes. And really, how could they expect me to make any other choice? Me, a child born twice over from magic and impossible odds? A child born from rape and love? It’s in my blood to believe in absurd and incredible things.

It’s surprisingly simple to climb the rock formation and reach the edge of long “fingers”. I stare down into the rippling ocean while I adjust the wide strap resting across my body and check the seating of the machete and two small knives. Once satisfied that they won’t slip out during my swim, I reach back and touch the waterproof bag at my back. A skin of water, several protein bars, and an assortment of potion bottles fill the bag that fits tightly to my body, hopefully preventing too much drag. I may be a gullible fool, but at least I’m a prepared one.

I wait a few more minutes, watching the seemingly endless ocean as the sky continues to lighten from dark indigoes to pale blues. There is no island for miles, none that I can see, but that doesn’t stop me from diving into the ocean at the first sliver of the sun rising over the horizon.

Swimming toward the sun with a true wish in my heart… so, this is what my life has become.

 

{Continued}


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for continued patience as I get back into the rhythm of writing again. :) You are all so kind and wonderful welcoming my return, and while I still feel bad it's for a story that isn't Squall and Seifer focused, this is the story where my muses have been making noise. Hopefully this spurs me onward into more stories. <3

[Kalen]

Floating on my back with legs limp in the water, I stare up at the soft blue sky and wait for the pounding of my heart to quiet to a more normal beat. I brace a machete against my chest, not yet ready to sheathe the weapon that glistens with an oily sheen. There had only been two of the Fastitocalon-F monsters, but while I had corrected their assumption that I was a tasty option for breakfast, I wasn’t about to stick around and see what variety of larger monster would be attracted to their blood.

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have fallen out of the exercise routines I once performed daily, ever since my father first let me touch a practice blade. I’ve never had the same affinity as the other Almasy men before me to wield a weapon, but I refused to be the helpless lamb in our family. I hated and still hate the mere thought of being the weak link that could be used against my love ones. And so I trained every day, learning the basics of common weapons and improving my stamina for the times when running is the better option.

Now, as I finally regain my breath, I try to remember the last time did anything more than a few laps in the campus pool. A month… No, likely longer, one more sacrifice to my research and my promise to make my mother healthy again.

With that reminder, I sheathe the machete and double-check the tiny compass on my watch before I flip onto my stomach and renew my swim in the direction of the rising sun.

It has been nearly an hour since I first leapt from the Hand of Faith, and I feel like an idiot for not asking Keesa more directly about how long a person would be made to endure the ocean waters before touching upon _Hera’wis._ But even as I think that, I know that asking overly detailed questions would have only made my babysitter suspicious, and I couldn’t have her running to my grandparents.

Relaxing into an easy pace, my mind turns like it usually does to my mother. I remember how he looked in my youth: shining white hair cascading over his shoulders, strangely colored eyes that reminded me of purple orchids, and pale skin that hardly burned despite the hours on the beach with my father. But most of all, I remember his quirked smile that was full of delight, relief, and awe toward what his life had become.

These days, that smile has been replaced with something tight and forced. His hair is always tied back, limp and often clumped from dried sweat. He rarely ventures outside, and when he does, he clings onto my father in search of strength. And his eyes… They are still that strange color, but hazed with exhaustion and pain.

Is it so terrible to want nothing more than to heal my mother just as he has healed so many before him?

The complaint barely forms in my thoughts when my stroking arm hits something incredibly solid, and before I can react, my submerged face plows into coarse sand. Startled and wholly bewildered, I place my arms beneath me and jerk back onto my knees, disturbingly supported by sand beneath shallow waves. I get a glimpse of a white beach and silver boulders before I wipe sand from my eyes and sputter out the salty grains from my mouth.

What a terrible introduction to _Hera’wis._

My next instinct is to look around and discover if anyone had witnessed the embarrassing event, but I’m the only obvious living soul on the too-white sand. Not a crab nor a stray bird seems to exist on the pristine beaches. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise when this is supposedly a magical island of some creation, but it makes me wonder: couldn’t those animals possibly have important wishes, too?

I stand slowly onto my water-pruned feet, but before I can find my balance on fatigued legs, I’m struck back down to my knees when my chest throbs with heavy pressure. The spark of an idea comes to mind, that I must speak out the wish I had come here to make. My lips part with the desire, the _need_ to speak the only wish I’ve known since I was seven…

I clamp a hand against my mouth without actually thinking to stop myself, and once I realize what I almost had done, I bite onto my thumb in frustration. This was the reason I came this far and risked my life for something as stupid as a wish, but I wasn’t raised to act without thought and careful consideration. Paranoia is what keeps an Almasy alive.

Once again, I stand and slowly lower my hand when the overwhelming urge to speak my wish passes. It’s still there, an itch at the base of my skull, but now that I recognize the urge for what it is, I can push it aside for my greater need of knowledge. After all, it’s not every day that I visit a magic island.

Sadly, _Hera’wis_ is not that impressive. Maybe a half mile wide, there is only the pure white sand that is coarser than the typical sand I’ve experienced in my travels. Ahead of me are what I first thought were silver boulders, but with clearer vision, I recognize the fallen and broken pillars for what they once were. I take a single step from light waves before my grandfather’s past warnings tickle into my thoughts and I pull the machete free from its strap.

I walk slowly toward the pillars, sharp sand prickling at my feet. Eventually I get close enough to notice the symbols branded into solid metal, an ancient language last known by the spirits we call Guardian Forces and by the few humans they have been willing to teach. Shiva wasn’t the kindest teacher, but certainly the most thorough, and I was a stubborn child with the overwhelming need to read every and any book about magic healing, including ancient tomes. Compared to the healing arts, these particular symbols focus on protective wards, warnings of the dangers within, and oddly, pleas to the gods for something I can only translate as “learned heart.”

I brush my free hand against the pillars, surprised to realize that the metal is adamantite, certainly not a brittle material nor a cheap one. The protection wards are bitter cold with old magic, but I don’t sense anything resembling a deadly trap. I step around the collapsed pillars, and if I was wearing shoes, I would have missed the movement of sand beneath my feet. I shift back to recognize the set of stairs for what they are and, per my luck these days, mostly covered by a column about twice the width of my body. Fortunately, the blockage is round, and with my hands braced at the top of the stairs and my feet against the pillar, I’m able to roll it far enough that I can slip through the opened stairwell.

The stairs lead deeper than what seems reasonable for the small island, magical or not. As the sunlight fades behind me, I debate my options until I realize that there is a softer, silver light that continues to make the stairs visible ahead. I adjust my machete into a stronger hold and walk toward that light.

I eventually reach an open archway, and with my back against the wall, I carefully peak around the corner. My breath leaves me as I discover a cramped cavern bathed in silver-white light radiating from a quiet pool of some liquid. Walls of natural crystal reflect that soft light, revealing etchings of the same symbols on the pillars above. The cavern is too beautiful, too pure like the white sands of the beach that had scraped the soles of my feet.

And when my eyes settle on the single occupant of the cavern, I immediately think that this place is too magnificent to be the prison that it apparently is.

Chained at the far end of the glowing pool, an almost man slumps forward with his face covered by black hair, an unsettling, endless black that makes me think of the shadows created by the glare of a holy spell. The dark strands cascade all the way to the crystalline ground and regrettably into the pool of strange liquid, but the partial covering does little to hide the body that appears overly healthy for a prisoner on a deserted island. Warm brown skin is particularly unbelievable within the sunless cavern. My attention, however, focuses more intently on the pair of arms chained above his bent head, a second pair of equally chained arms spread out and angled toward the ground, and the final pair of arms hugged around his waist, also chained.

Once my surprise passes, I recognize the Guardian Force for what it…he… _it_ is, although its exact identity escapes me. And Hyne, I can practically smell the power curling around the bound body, a seductive power that has been captured and contained with excessive caution beyond mere human means. A forgotten power that could so easily be mine…

“…Human…”

I jolt at the gravelly voice, abruptly realizing the terrible direction of my thoughts. It’s easy to conclude that I should escape this cavern and perhaps the island in its entirety, but before I can persuade my body to move, the GF lifts his head and reveals his face to silver light.

My first thought is that, of course, a powerful spirit like this GF would have a handsome face: a strong jaw lacking facial hair, black eyebrows that are somewhat thick but suited to the serious face, bowed lips that are tight in wariness, and a nose that can only be described as noble with a vaguely arrow-shaped tip. The most distinguishing feature are his eyes of impossibly dark pupils and ringed by candy-apple red. Not the color of fresh blood, nor the color of hot coals, or an intense flare spell, or something else more dangerous. No, I can only see the gleam of candy-apple red as I realize that I can’t think of him as a simple “it” anymore.

Shapely lips quirk into an amused and devastating smirk. “Human, you have come this far: why are you hiding instead of taking the last few steps to finish your journey?”

I hesitate in quick thought, eventually coming to the conclusion that the GF already knows of my presence and that his chains look sturdy enough. Not wanting to show my fear, I lower the machete to my side and take a calming breath before I step through the open archway.

The GF’s smirk falters into something with an assessing edge. “Again, you humans surprise me. A child’s shell should not contain powers such as yours.”

I scoff at the attempt of flattery. “That’s funny coming from an ancient Guardian Force like you.”

“’Guardian Force’?” he questions. “I do not recall guarding anything of worth. If you think a treasure resides here, you will be greatly disappointed.”

“No, it’s what you are, or to recite the common definition, an independent energy force that can exist on its own or within another lifeform.” Resisting a smile, I comment, “Or if you don’t like that, my great-grandfather still prefers to call your kind ‘fairies’.”

His expression souring like every GF before him, the dark one grounds out, “I am not some flitting fairy that commands enough power to create light and music, but substantially nothing more.”

“Obviously,” I murmur under my breath, otherwise distracted as previously unnoticed slices on the GF’s forehead widen a fraction, barely enough to reveal another four pairs of eyes that all gleam with angry red. Angry, candy-apple red.

“Why are you here, human? To taunt me? To laugh at my bindings?” he asks as chains chime quietly, although I don’t catch which of his six arms had moved. “I know you hold a heart wish. It is strong, made of true desire, and is likely to be granted. Why not speak it as this prison demands of you?”

“Those are a lot of questions when I don’t even know of your name.”

The chains chime again when the GF straightens with clear suspicion in his gaze. “If you believe that my name can be used to enslave me—“

“In fair trade, my name is Kalen Squall Almasy,” I interrupt coolly, accustomed to the easy anger of GFs. “Trapped here, you may not have heard of me, but trust me when I say that if I wanted to enslave you, I could do so without your name.”

His scoff borders on laughter. “Child, you are out of your depth.”

I shrug at the comment; meanwhile, with the practiced ease, I shift my sight to locate the strings of energy that flit from Guardian Forces just like cobwebs waiting to cling onto something more solid. The younger GFs have several such strings of bright colors, making them the simplest with which to junction and bring into this world. GFs of greater age and power, however, only desire worthwhile humans and hide their ties to this plane. Even so, there are always a few strings that are simple enough to spot with the right eye. But contrary to my past experience, only a single, scarcely visible thread seems attached to this GF, a razor-thin strand that dares fools and the unwary to take hold. It’s an impressive attempt to avoid junctions, but nonetheless, I see that connection clearly and lift a hand to stroke the stream of energy, uncaring of the fine cuts it causes along my fingertips.

The GF shudders before he can stop himself, his apparent fear quickly replaced by anger. “ _Preposterous_. Such ability requires a human born of magic and joined souls, at least twice over to command…” The dark one becomes silent when my only response is to smile, my thoughts briefly turning to my strange family and unlikely ancestry. The GF stares for a moment longer before a soft “ah” sounds and his extra eyes slowly close to leave behind faint scar lines that are barely discernable against warm brown skin.

His single pair of eyes watches me very closely when he states, “Endespithre.”

“Endespithre,” I repeat with a nod of thanks for sharing his name without need of further threats. “Now, to answer your questions, I admit that I came to this island to have my wish granted, but I didn’t like how it felt, as if that wish was about to ripped from me, so I left it unsaid. With nothing else to do, my curiosity led me down here, and in all honesty, I didn’t know of your existence before stumbling upon this cage of yours.”

His expression becomes quiet and cold at my explanation. “Then… have I been forgotten?”

Startled by the question, I hesitate before saying, “I’m not from this region, and I’m not exactly a scholar. Just because I haven’t heard of—“

A bark of laughter sounds before Endespithre sneers with a flash of sharp teeth. “At one point in time, all feared my existence. Dragons learned how to fly to escape my grasp and smaller creatures slinked back into the ocean to avoid my gaze. Humans were too stupid, too stubborn for such tricks, and so they hid like mice in their homes of mud and shit, and prayed to the All-Creator with their shameful whining.”

I try to resist a smile at the apparent habit of ancient GFs to sound intimidating. “Okay, well, that would explain why you’re chained and locked away on a remote magical island.”

An odd hiss sounds from Endespithre and chains creak from added weight. “Do _not_ mock me, human.”

“The truth tends to sting like that,” I retort. “But now I’m curious: if you hate humans so much, why take our form? At least I assume that isn’t your natural appearance.”

“’ _Our form_ ’? Do not be so arrogant,” the GF says as if tasting something foul on his tongue. “The All-Creator grew bored and made you in Their image. She called humans favorite, He told us to protect and love you, and then _left_ without realizing Their mistake to grant you existence. Filthy devils with ugly energy and no desire beyond war and lust.”

My gaze doesn’t leave Endespithre during his rant. Anger roughens his voice, but despite the words, there isn’t the hate that should easily flow within his aged fury. And before he finishes, his bright red eyes shift just slightly to the left. Barely noticeable, likely unintended, but I’ve seen that look before and I recognize it well.

What in Hyne’s name have I stumbled upon here?

“ _Do not mock me!_ ”

Endespithre launches forward with all of the movement allowed by his restraints, something I barely register before green light blurs my vision. A magical barrier shimmers into existence around me, immediately followed by loud chittering from Carbuncle. A GF of many expressions and very few words, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard such noises from him before.

I then glance around the furry spirit to take in the sight of Endespithre. All of his eyes had opened wide, shining with the light of denied magic. Thick fangs jut out from under his lips, the two fangs from his upper jaw twice as wide and straddling the lower pair. Black, ragged talons hook out from his fingers, including the hands braced against his stomach which causes silver blood to ooze from the self-inflicted wounds. The thick fluid flows over naked flesh and down his legs to the pool at his feet, a pool I thought quiet and beautiful only a short time ago.

“Your betrayal has become a habit, little one,” Endespithre states in a calm but severe tone. “To what end, I wonder?”

Carbuncle’s long ears droop a fraction, and I can feel the mixed emotions of my friend: anger, worry, shame, determination… Taking a chance on hastily gathered thoughts, I counter, “Perhaps you were the one to betray him.”

Only the human-placed eyes shift to focus on me, the others remaining on Carbuncle. “Know your place, human.”

“This place, those chains… Carbuncle helped to create this prison, didn’t he?” A barely formed whine sounds from the furry GF, the only answer I need. “Endespithre, what did you do to force Carbuncle to choose between you and the humans of your time?”

“Know…your... _place!_ ” the bound GF grounds out, his eyes flaring with dark light as they all turn to focus on me. Sparks singe and crackle against Carbuncle’s barrier, and I smell the hint of a poison spell. It’s nothing that appears particularly damaging even without a Shell to protect me, but by the puff of Carbuncle’s tail, I wonder if Endespithre should have been able to touch any of his magic in the first place.

<LEAVE NOW>

I wince at the booming voice in my skull. Numerous times, I’ve tried to explain the concept of volume to Gilgamesh, but it’s a futile endeavor. Carbuncle glances back at me, his dark eyes adopting an expression my grandmother shows whenever he wishes to talk. Obviously Carbuncle has spent too much time around the silently intense man. In any case, I’m outnumbered in whatever matter has brought Gilgamesh to the forefront.

“This isn’t over,” I say to the still seething GF, although the sparks of blocked magic have subsided.

Endespithre sneers with a curl of victory to his lips. “Run, human. I cannot stop you. For now.”

Irritated, I purposefully sheath my machete in front of the bound spirit and turn my back to him. Carbuncle chitters a parting comment before he perches on my shoulder and rubs his head against mine. I hear the creak of chains and stone, but I don’t look back while I walk in a measured pace to the stairs and back up to the sunlight and open air.

The moment my feet touch the coarse white sand, I open the link to Gilgamesh before he decides to start into his speech within my vulnerable brain. Appearing with a swirl of sand, the very large GF looms above me with his ragged red cape fluttering in a nonexistent wind. His glowing white eyes glare through the slit in the fabric that otherwise covers his face, the rest of his body also hidden. For a fleeting moment, I recall the GF’s multiple arms hidden beneath the cape and wonder if he’s related to Endespithre, but then dismiss the idea when I eye the odd decoration of three wooden planks painted in the clumsy images of arms, including cartoon-style bumps of muscular biceps.

While Gilgamesh may look intimidating and dark, there’s something not quite right about the spirit.

<Two millennia and Charlotte still isn’t ready for the world. Make the wish you’ve earned, boy, and let it give you escape from here,> Gilgamesh declares with no hint of moving lips.

“’Charlotte’? You mean Endespithre?”

Gilgamesh considers my question, his head tilting briefly to the sky before nodding, <Ah yes, wrong rift, wrong spider. You are correct.>

Deciding to let that pass, I tackle the more important issue. “What do you mean he ‘still’ isn’t ready for the world? Were you involved with imprisoning him? And after all these years, you somehow intended to release him?”

<We were charged to protect the human species, and he threatened their longevity. He couldn’t be allowed his freedom, but the All-Creator gave us Her guidance to create this magic to hold him and teach him. Alas, he still hasn’t learned,> he says with a stern shake of his head.

“Learned? Learned what, exactly?”

<Why, the human heart.> White eyes squinting, Gilgamesh comments, <I thought you learned the language of old. Do I remember wrong, or are you just stupid?>

Ignoring the insult while Carbuncle growls in my defense, I think back to the ancient writing that I had read while exploring the pillars and recall the prayers for a “learned heart” amongst the protective wards. My hand goes to the bridge of my nose and I massage at the headache I feel building there. “Let me see if I have this right. Endespithre fought against the demand to serve humans, did something terrible, and was imprisoned here to keep him separate from humans. However, you and other GFs decided that if he could learn the human heart, he would be reformed and could be released?”

Gilgamesh straightens with pride and his eyes narrow in a clearly smiling manner. <You are not stupid. Good!>

Yup, this is going to be some headache. “How was he supposed to learn anything about humans while sealed away here?”

<The wishes are granted from his ability,> Gilgamesh explains. <He walks the webs of time and can locate any ending he desires. He can see a heart’s wish, and with the power of this island, he can make that wish real. He can see the goodness of humans and make that goodness stronger!>

“In other words, he’s forced to grant the wishes of the humans he hates?”

Taken aback, Gilgamesh argues, <No, you do not understand the subtleties of our plan.>

I barely hear him when I remember one of the conditions of _Hera’wis_. “The people with selfish desires… Is it true that they are imprisoned on this island?”

<Hmph, there aren’t many of those, but yes, if they dare to use this island for their own fulfillment, they are trapped here until their death.>

“Then the only humans Endespithre has had contact with are those with typical selfish wishes, sentenced to death on an island that has no food nor fresh water.”

Carbuncle whines quietly next to my ear and rubs against my neck.

Gilgamesh shifts with discomfort. <They typically chose to drown themselves before dying of hunger. It’s a peaceful death. And there are many more humans with good hearts than not.>

I sigh, knowing that Guardian Forces aren’t human and don’t hold our same sense of right and wrong, of life and death. Some are better than others, but the ancient ones are particularly harsh with their view points. Still, this seems particularly cruel and misguided.

I lift a hand to scratch behind Carbuncle’s limp ear. “And what about you, my furry friend? He said you betrayed him. Did you have good reason for that?”

Choosing not to speak, Carbuncle inches closer, and receiving no argument from me, he presses the jewel on his forehead between my eyes. The flash of thoughts and emotions nearly knocks me unconscious, and while I have blacked out many times in the past, I’m feeling particularly stubborn today.

He first shows me unending darkness and a kind hand that draws him from the shadows into light. Birth, creation, and honorable inevitability, a blurry mess of concepts that somehow define the Guardian Force’s beginning. He shows me Endespithre in flits and glimpses, how the elder spirit taught the new GF the meaning of his existence and the pride of being a wall to protect humans.

The warm and hazy dreamlike visions abruptly shift to harsh slices of nightmares when Carbuncle shows me a bloody war and an odd ritual by humans that draws power from Guardian Forces, but not like we do in the present times. No, it’s something worse than a draw: an unnatural draining of power. Draining away their very existence as GFs I’ve never seen before fade into flickering light. He shows me Endespithre in his natural form, an endlessly black monster that lies somewhere between spider and dragon. Though fearsome in shape and size, Endespithre doesn’t directly attack anyone but walks boldly through a battle, humans on both sides collapsing left and right from various deaths, deaths Endespithre chose from their futures.

Lastly and with clear reluctance, Carbuncle shows the energy-spent GF being chained and locked away on this island, Carbuncle’s magic forming the cornerstone of the prison.

The visions end and I gasp with the need to breathe. While I know that only a few seconds have passed, I feel like I’ve experienced several lifetimes in that brief moment. There was too much information for me to immediately process, but one thought stands out as a look to Carbuncle and his worried expression.

“You’re… an ancient, too?” Even when Carbuncle chirps in his version of agreement, I can hardly believe it. “But… You act like the other younger GFs… You aren’t difficult to junction… You don’t avoid humans…”

<He is the model of Guardians,> Gilgamesh chimes in. <He protects where most of us only attack. Indeed, all humans should be able to call upon him.>

I find myself smiling at the little GF and scratch under his chin. “Well, that explains why you seem to come and go as you wish. My grandparents have been debating that for years.”

Carbuncle chirps with momentary glee at causing the mystery, but he promptly remembers himself and glances back at the stairway leading back to the bound GF.

“Hn, he’s been left alone again, hasn’t he? We should probably fix that.”

<You can’t help him,> Gilgamesh argues with a stretched-out arm, a dramatic pose that does nothing to actually stop me. <Did you not see his hatred for humans when he attacked you?>

“I saw enough,” I reply as I turn my back to the armored GF. He huffs at my disregard for his warning, but he doesn’t force the point either. Instead I feel his departure from this world and the whisper of <Your funeral will be honorable> along our link. I hesitate to guess where Gilgamesh adopted his melodramatic flare.

I walk back down the stairs toward the beautiful prison created for the equally enticing and ancient GF. During that descent, Carbuncle’s claws dig into my shoulder, both for balance and from anxiousness. Even though I know what is waiting for me, I still find my breath hitched when I see Endespithre for the second time. He hangs slumped against his chains, all of his previous features that had been revealed in anger are now gone, although silver blood still shines on his stomach and legs. A single pair of eyes watches my entrance, a gleam of caution glinting in the bold red gaze.

“You have returned…”

The voice is hoarse and resigned, and I feel a slither of anger at the humans who forced Endespithre into traitorous action, the humans who burdened him with this malicious punishment when they were the ones to commit the more terrible crime. Maybe some of Carbuncle’s emotions have affected me, but my blood demands for the chance of mercy, and if found undeserving, a strike of swift punishment. This infinite torture in the form of chains and prayers….

First mercy. Then judgment.

“Gilgamesh sends his regards,” I comment lightly, earning a quiet growl from the chained spirit. “He and Carbuncle told me that this island and cage is your punishment. That you are supposed to learn how to love humankind again.”

Chains chime with his bark of laughter. “It is bold to assume that I _ever_ loved humans.”

“Either way, those chains stay in place until you learn to forgive the humans who betrayed you and your kind.” Focused on eyes of candy-apple red, I search for the seething hatred of earlier and find only heated misery. “Or perhaps… Maybe we have this backwards, and you need a human’s forgiveness for the unavoidable actions you took.”

Startled, Endespithre doesn’t have a harsh response for my theory, which I take as a win.

I move to the wall directly facing the spirit and slump down into a seated position. Off my feet for the first time since arriving here, my body quickly reminds me of the long swim and the months of inadequate training before today. Fighting a yawn, I drag the waterproof bag up and over my head for easy access to a bottle of water and a protein bar.

“I have enough water and food to last me a night here and a return trip to Belsad,” I comment after a deep swallow of water. “I know it isn’t much time, but if we’re lucky, it’ll be enough to loosen those chains of yours. At least, am I right to assume that once I leave here, I won’t be allowed to return?”

Confusion flits over Endespithre’s expression. “You…. Do you think to leave without announcing your wish?”

I stare at the obvious question, surprised that I had forgotten about my original reason to come here. Endespithre is more distracting than I had realized. “I haven’t considered it, but… What does it cost you to grant wishes of the heart?”

His gaze calm and focused, Endespithre replies, “You cannot leave without your wish being judged as true or corrupt.”

“Interesting, but that’s not an answer.”

“It is the truth, nonetheless.”

My stomach sours at the dose of truth that is an obvious disguise for some ugly secret, and Hyne above, I loathe it when people use the truth for unspoken lies. Still, I know I haven’t earned Endespithre’s trust, just as he hasn’t earned mine, and so I decide against pushing for an honest answer.

I lift my hand to take a bite of the protein bar, but hesitate when I realize how rude I’m being. “Sorry, I didn’t think…. Did you want some of my food or water?”

After a quiet pause, Endespithre leans back with offense. “Child, I am a hand of the All-Creator. I am beyond the common needs of humans.”

“Yes, but while Carbuncle is also something greater than humans, he doesn’t let that get between him and sugar. Although….” With a wrinkle of my nose, I glance down at the SeeD-grade nutrition bar. “I doubt anyone would eat something like this for the fun of it. They say it’s chocolate-flavored, but I’m pretty certain they call it that to explain away the brown color. Still, I was raised better than to flaunt food and water in front of someone bound in chains.”

The GF watches me like one would watch a coiled snake, and I sigh at the invisible barriers between us.

“Fine, I can take a hint. You are superior to my humble offerings, and I apologize for offending you,” I relent with a heavy bite of the bitter food. The taste is worse than I remember and the poor company doesn’t help.

For several minutes, there is nothing but the crinkle of the foil wrapper, the crackle of a plastic water bottle, and the distant roll of ocean waves. My eyes morbidly focus on the silver pool that glows with soft light that feels warm and inviting, nothing like the creature from where the blood had come. His feet shift at the rim of the small pool, and my mind turns to unfocused wanderings, like why the spirit has toenails if they don’t grow. Then I realize I had forgotten to clip my own toenails even though they have been snagging on my socks since Azura’s wedding. And Azura… Hyne, she’s going to be furious when she hears about my adventure today. Absolutely enraged, but it should take only a handful of minutes before she’ll try to make a story out of it. I can almost imagine the headline now, “Plenty of Fishes, and Wishes, in the Sea.”

“Why are you _here_?”

While the gruff demand wakes me from my distracted haze, I don’t feel any urgency to answer his question. Instead, my gaze drags slowly up the length of the bound body, and I continue to wonder about the ancient GF: why does he have a penis if spirits don’t procreate, what else does he have in multiples like his arms and eyes, and why doesn’t his chest hair reflect the same foreboding darkness as the hair from his head? So many mysteries in one creature, and I feel cheated that I get only this one day with him.

When I finally focus on red eyes, Endespithre shows an odd and ridiculously beautiful crossed-eyed stare of confusion. I imagine it has been a long time since anyone, human or otherwise, has taken the opportunity to admire the spirit.

“ _Human_ , answer—“

“My name is Kalen,” I interrupt before shoving the last unsatisfying bite of the nutrient bar into my mouth.

Teeth bared, Endespithre demands, “What does your name matter to me, _human_?”

“It’s a courtesy, but I’m not expecting miracles. Not yet, at least,” I say while folding the foil wrapper into a tight square.

“Miracles…” Endespithre repeats in a hoarse whisper, the GF then slumping back into his chains. “There are no miracles here; only wishes that the foreseeable future can fulfill.”

Another answer, another mystery. “I meant the miracle of bringing you closer to freedom.” When the GF stares in bafflement, I show him the smile I typically save for critically ill patients. “Don’t tell me that you’ve lost hope of ever leaving here. Does your hatred for humans run so deep that you think release is beyond your grasp?”

A weak, strange laugh leaves the ancient GF. “It would be a miracle if I could trust a human again, but already, I cannot trust you. Not when you say that is your reason to stay.”

“I respect that,” I comment with a yawn and a stretch. “Hyne, sitting down was a huge mistake. Would you mind if I took a powernap before we continue this conversation?”

Endespithre stares blankly, as if I had asked for a piggyback ride around the island. Meanwhile, Carbuncle bristles next to me and growls out in a series of almost sentences, the meaning obvious even though the exact words are unknown to me. If I close my eyes, I can imagine my grandfather ranting in the same tone.

“I think we’ve moved beyond that,” I tell my little protector. “And let’s be honest, what fun would it be for the great and powerful Endespithre to murder a sleeping human?”

“It would not be wasted energy,” the ancient GF unhelpfully adds, his red eyes gleaming with hunger, whether for my life or continued company after several human lifetimes of solitude, I can’t be certain.

Carbuncle rumbles out his final opposition, to which I place a steady hand on his back. Black eyes look to my face, just in time to catch a jaw-cracking yawn from me. He whimpers in sympathy, and without another sound, creates a shield to protect me. It only takes a glance to see that he chose a second layer this time around.

I smile my thanks to the cautious GF, and then turn my gaze back to Endespithre. “Sorry to be rude, but I have a feeling that I’m going to need my full concentration to deal with this situation. Not mention dealing with you,” I add with an unsubtle wink at the bound GF. His confused stare returns, and Hyne help me, it’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed an open, wholly unaware treat like him.

Before I have the chance to embarrass myself further, I lie back on the rocky ground and fold my arms behind my head. The cots in the on-call room are fractionally better than cold stone, although I more often find myself asleep in a chair and drooling on a lab bench. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last several years, it’s how to snatch sleep anytime and anywhere, and despite the sensation of demanding red eyes watching me, I drop into dark, heavy slumber.

~ > < ~

_The bus was a common, everyday yellow school bus from an ordinary school that had very little to do with mercenaries and war. Red paint decorated the sides, cheering support for the tragically named Sandworms of Mid-Esthar High School and its hockey team that had no right existing in a desert. Inside the bus sat twenty-five painfully quiet teammates, two panicked coaches, a single tense team medic, and his distinctly young assistant. The bus driver was dead, murdered moments after the team had solemnly piled onto the bus, ready to go home after an overtime loss. The body was slumped across a front seat as a reminder as to why guns were created, his blood dripping onto the rubber of the aisle._

_Unplanned on the bus roster were three rough-looking men, one driving the bus and the other two keeping watchful gazes, along with fully loaded weapons, on their hostages. One revolver, however, was reserved for a single captive within the large group: the twelve-year-old assistant to the medic, Kalen Almasy._

_More annoyed than afraid of the special treatment, Kalen studied the trio of terrorists who leered at how easily they had taken control of the bus that transported an Almasy family member. Each man wore clothing that openly displayed the symbol of a flame with an eye watching from above, identifying themselves as members within Galbadians Against Sorceresses. Kalen could almost hear his grandfather’s loud guffaw at the GAS members purposefully deciding that a flame was the perfect symbol for their cause. Over a three-year period, Seifer Almasy had single-handedly reduced their ranks from nearly a thousand members down to the dedicated few, but like cockroaches, nothing seemed to wipe them entirely from existence. Not that Seifer had given up trying._

_“We’re going to die. We’re going to die. We’re going to die…”_

_Kalen glanced in the direction of the whispered, surprisingly squeaky mantra that came from a solidly-built teenaged girl who was one of the top five defensive players in her age group. Ardent Harland was fearless with a hockey stick, but not-so-much with automatic rifles aimed at her. Not that she had any reason to be, Kalen silently reminded himself._

_“Shut **up** , you stupid bitch,” a nearby teammate, Dutch Marksmith, hissed with an ugly pinch to his face. _

_Kalen mentally sighed at the additional evidence that proved ridiculously handsome, athletically gifted upper classmen weren’t worth much consideration, even if their existence had enlightened Kalen about the base nature of his sexuality. It seemed whatever genetics encouraged homosexuality in the Almasy line was still going strong, which wasn’t a surprising nor burdensome realization to the youngest family member. His only regret was how his interest in hockey players encouraged miserable jokes that abused the term “stick handling” to obnoxious levels._

_The hard metal of the revolver’s barrel thrusted between Kalen’s eyes, causing him to wince._

_“Stop lookin’ around like you’re plannin’ somethin’, demon spawn,” the fledging of the trio demanded, sweat prickling at his temples. Twenty-something and naïve, the terrorist looked more like a barista rather than someone who wholly believed that sorceresses were a plague to humankind and should be wiped from existence. Kalen also noted that Terrorist C’s hand was sweatier than his forehead._

_“Don’t hurt the kid,” Terrorist A said coolly, as if he wasn’t training his rifle on unarmed teenagers. His posture and clothing suggested some flavor of SeeD background, but not Esthar or Balamb based. Kalen debated whether the man had dropped out or was expelled before finishing that training. Broad-shouldered, close-cropped haircut, and a dead-eye gaze made him the most worrisome of the trio._

_“Somethin’s weird about him,” Terrorist C complained in the same tone of someone suspicious of a foreign delicacy with a name he couldn’t pronounce. “He’s, what, ten or somethin’? He don’t act like it.”_

_“He’s a Hyne-damned Almasy. Nothing is normal about that family,” Terrorist A grumbled. “But I don’t want that kid dead until we handle his granddaddy first. It’ll be easier to control the Golden Devil if he thinks cooperating might save the boy’s life.”_

_Terrorist C barked a laugh. “Those hero types are such idiots, thinkin’ they’re gods or some immortal shit.”_

_Kalen bit his lower lip, preventing a smile at his grandfather being recognized as a hero, albeit backhandedly so. While Seifer did occasionally take on heroic undertakings, the man was more villain than champion and only Squall Leonhart-Almasy had the ability to make the deadly man appear remotely trustworthy and someone with honest intentions._

_“What, gonna cry, baby Almasy?” Terrorist C sneered with a prod of his gun, misunderstanding the boy’s expression. “How’s it feel knowin’ no one is gonna save—”_

_“Fuck me to fuckin’ hell!” Terrorist B cried out, the bus swerving under his startled hands. “We’ve got… I don’t know what, but we’ve got it!”_

_Almost everyone looked to the back windows, several gasping once they spotted the immense form of Bahamut soaring toward the bus. No one dared to utter a word, but Kalen still knew the moment when people realized there was a man standing on the back of the unruly GF. The legendary summoner and gunblade master, Isan Almasy was a strange sight dressed in a wind-ripped shirt, flour-smeared jeans, and a ruffled apron with cartoon flowers, the sight of which making Kalen feel some guilt at ruining the preparations of a bake sale at the orphanage. Auntie Rinoa asked for so little, after all._

_“How’s that possible?” Terrorist C squeaked. “We didn’t do the ransom video yet! And he’s supposed to be in Centra, ain’t he?”_

_“Doesn’t matter now,” Terrorist A said while standing tall and flipping off the safety of his rifle. Without so much of a suggestion to duck, he began rapid fire at the back windows and toward the approaching GF and summoner. Students screamed at the sound of gunfire and shattered glass, but the air shimmered around them when bullets veered in their direction. Kalen smirked at the appearance of Carbuncle in the corner of the bus, its dark eyes gleaming with protective anger._

_“Don’t you get all smug,” Terrorist C warned before hooking an arm around Kalen’s neck and pressing the barrel of the revolver hard against the boy’s temple. “Your daddy’s gonna die for you.”_

_“Says the man with a death wish,” Kalen muttered in the moment before Bahamut abruptly swung around in midair and slammed the bus with its heavy tail._

_Protective shells flared in full force as the students and staff were protected from the force of the bus rolling several times, eventually landing on its side. The terrorists weren’t so lucky. Terrorist C had been dashed twice against the roof of the bus, his revolver lost in the mess. Terrorist B hadn’t considered the benefits of a seatbelt and was no longer in the bus, the windshield mostly gone. Terrorist A seemed to have shared Terrorist C’s fate to be thrown against the walls of the bus, although the strap of automatic rifle kept the weapon close to his body._

_At the sound of footsteps, Kalen glanced up at the side of the bus that reached toward the sky. From a broken window, a shape of a man appeared from clouds of dust, revealing Isan with a sharp scowl that was rare for the man of many fake smiles. Once green eyes found his son, however, a slight and relieved smile made its appearance._

_“Kalen… Thank Hyne.”_

_Kalen almost smiled in return, but before he could, he heard the quiet ping of a weapon being lifted and a bullet settling into place. There was no time for thought, no time to question consequences. Kalen called upon the magic within him and reached for whatever water was free and available to his spell, and with only a flick of his gaze to Terrorist A, Kalen willed an icicle to fly and pierce the base of the man’s skull and out through his mouth. Kalen tried not to think to deeply about the red color of the icicle or the bleeding body of the bus driver slumped nearby._

_Even as students groaned at their bruised, but otherwise unharmed bodies, Kalen thought it was too silent in that moment and resisted looking at his watchful father. Stalling, however, couldn’t last when Isan jumped into the bus and landed directly in front of his child. Kalen winced, but then turned his gaze up to the Esthar Garden Headmaster._

_Isan’s expression was complex, shades of confusion, hurt, and terror showing in his soft green eyes. The direction of his gaze shifted ever so slightly to Kalen’s messed hair and the strands of white that was the source of so many annoying jokes._

_“Dad…” Kalen whispered, unable to force his voice any louder. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry, but I had to…”_

_Isan said nothing for a long moment, his gaze filled with betrayal and pain until he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His voice hoarse and wavering, he said, “I wanted better for you.”_

_Kalen choked back the sudden urge to cry at his father’s disappointment toward his use of magic. “I know, but… but…”_

_One moment to the next, Kalen was enveloped in strong arms and a calloused hand grasped firmly at the back of his head. “I might be blind, kid, but I’m not stupid,” Isan scolded gently. “Of all people, I know you have your reasons.”_

_Relieved at being understood, Kalen nodded against his father’s shoulder and held on tight to the clothes ripped during the dragon’s rushed flight from Centra. While Isan may never like Kalen’s rough plans to save Seveyn’s life, Kalen knew that the Headmaster had very little room to argue about risking his neck for the sake of another. There would be many long discussions about it in the future, but Kalen was certain of his path and not even his father could dissuade him at this point._

_“Now, no more lies,” Isan said as he pulled back and stared down with his expression speaking of resigned curiosity. “Which of my parents should I blame for this?”_

* * *

 

[Endespithre]

A hallucination sleeps in front of me. A dark-haired, blue-eyed, magic-bleeding hallucination that can’t be anything more than the result of years upon decades upon centuries of solitude eroding away at my mind.

Other humans have witnessed my imprisonment in the past, and all but one other didn’t respond well to my existence. Most would first plea for salvation, ridiculously holding the assumption that a chained demon held any ability to free souls from this cursed island. And once my powerless state became obvious, their supplicant front would dissolve away to fury and screams about how they had been lied to and their wish was no more selfish than any other human’s desire. Some threw sand and shards of crystal at me. Far fewer attempted to harm me with their own fists, those foolish creatures meeting their end within the silver pool of my blood.

And then, there was Daniella. She was older for a human, long white hair clumped around her face from sea water and her wrinkles showing every edge of emotion that flowed through her. She smiled with the knowledge of her selfish, cruel wish and held no regret toward the consequence of requesting for another human’s death. She sat nearly where this new hallucination sleeps, and with a serene smile, she dared to say that she was pleased that she wouldn’t die alone.

I had no use for her, but her company wasn’t difficult to endure.

That was nine humans ago, but none of those last humans had the poor luck to meet my gaze. All of their wishes were true and spoken without delay on the sands above me. They had no qualm of what it meant for their wishes to be granted, no second thought about the scales of time and existence that must always be maintained. Their wishes were made into reality, nonetheless.

Then this hallucination appeared, his heart wish unspoken and his eyes the color of the sky as the day becomes night.

I feared him the moment I recognized him.

Interrupting my spiraling thoughts, a quiet bell chimes and a series of ripples pass through the pool of silver at my feet. I straighten at the happenstance, wondering at the last time two humans on the same day managed to breach the veil of magic that surrounds my island prison. Maybe once or twice before, but they usually come and leave too quickly for the chance of overlap. This may prove… unpleasant.

The hallucination moans as if uncomfortable, perhaps sensing the shift of magic in the cavern as crystals begin to glow dully. Resignation fills me as I focus my gaze on my lost blood and witness the first images of the female with a thin body frame covered by mere strips of fabric and odd paint on her face that does nothing for her beauty. She gasps for breath, a hand pressed against her chest as if ensuring her heart didn’t escape her chest. Not a human accustomed to physical exertion, it appears, and yet she applied that effort today to reach this island. She isn’t the first to make me wonder about the true motivation of humans.

Exhausted, the female takes a liberal amount of time to recognize the sand beneath her hands and knees, and how the white sand has nothing to do with the beaches she departed from. Then the magic of the island reaches her ear, whispers that she need only speak her wish with all of her soul. Unlike the human before her, the female immediately draws herself into a kneeling position, folds her hands into a needless prayer, and cries out her wish for anyone to hear.

“Please, _please_ , give Des…” Though choking on tears, the female clasps her hands tighter. “Give Destin his legs back. Let him walk again, and I’ll do anything!”

With her wish revealed, images flicker across the pool of blood: the female laughing as she massages thin legs of a smirking male; that image skipping to her feeding the same man as his hands sit limply in his lap; skipping to the pair dressed in fine clothing, him in a wheeled chair and her dancing on sand; skipping to her hugging him tightly as he holds some weapon in a loose hand. No matter their future, she and he are there, together in love and in pain. His movement means little to her, but she knows it means too much to him. In too many futures, it means his life.

Crystals flare with blinding light, the wish deemed true in heart. And with that judgment, I’m flooded with the magic that demands everything of my abilities. An unseen blade cuts shallowly into my thigh, and when my blood swells into fresh air, the visions begin.

In a flash of a moment, I witness the recent past and the accident that caused everything: the female laughing and dancing playfully on a dark path, unaware of the mechanical monster controlled by an equally careless human. She was saved by her male even as he left himself vulnerable to the force of the metal invention, paralyzed to unknown extent. In rapid secession, future after future follows, none allowing for the male to walk, each new option costing a score of my blood as I search. The female’s pain somehow burns worse in each new vision, and I’m encouraged to look harder and deeper until… until…

I blink and stare forward at the human of midnight eyes, him yelling something that doesn’t pierce through the veil of roaring magic. Betrayal teases the back of my mind, this human who lies and says he’d rather help me instead of making his wish, but he’s there with the younger male in the not-far-future, bringing dead limbs back to life. For this human to be there in that one future the female needs, it means he was casted away from here, his wish spoken and granted. And I…

The cavern blurs in bright light, the magic satisfied that I had found the answer to the female’s wish and proceeds to make that future the one true path forward. My body aches at the closing of futures, the death of too many possibilities to count, futures I’ll never walk again. In the greater scheme of existence, they were insignificant specks of futures, but they were many against a single path forward. It’s tragic in some unidentifiable meaning.

And in a whisper of a moment, the too-bright-light extinguishes, the female gone from the beach and the magic receding back into the island, silent until the next wish is spoken.

“…Wh …What in Hyne’s name was _that_?”

Still blinded by light, I scowl at the harsh noise within the usual emptiness that follows a completed wish, and with unbecoming pettiness, I refuse to give the obvious answer to his question.

“That…” A quiet growl rolled from the human. “Is _that_ the price of a wish? Your pain and blood sacrificed to, what, some dark magic meant to drain you of everything that gives you life?”

I almost believe the human’s outrage until I recall his kind smile and gentle hands that touches other humans in a place far from here. “Speak your wish, human. Let us be done with this.”

“No.”

I lift my head sharply, chains chiming with the rough movement. Some of my eyes have recovered enough to focus on the young male, his chin raised with stubbornness and his eyes flashing with sorcery. “Do not continue your lies. You leave here. When the only path from this island is with your granted wish, you _leave here_. That future has been seen and sealed as true.”

His eyes shift, but not from wariness or uncertainty at being caught in a mistruth. “Gilgamesh mentioned you walk the webs of time, that you help to grant wishes based on available futures. Does that mean you’ve already seen my future paths?”

“…No,” I reluctantly answer, “but you are key to that female’s wish.”

Dark blue eyes widen at the idea that he has a role in another’s futures. “Oh… Oh, that’s very interesting, but that doesn’t mean I make _my_ wish, now does it?”

“There is only one—”

“Yes, yes,” he interrupts with an annoying smirk, “a wish would fly me away from here. But what happens once I free you?”

Preposterous, absurd, meaningless… But the words stick in my throat as the human nods as if reaching an obvious conclusion. Green flashes above his shoulder, and Cabochon, now called “Carbuncle,” immediately starts into a series of barks, chirps, and growls about the dangerous of setting me free into the world again. Dire warnings for something that can’t possibly happen, not by this child alone.

“Enough, Carby,” the human scolds gently with a hand placed upon the spirit’s head. “I’ll leave this alone if you can tell me honestly and without bias that Endespithre looks anything like that raging demon whom you first bound in this prison centuries ago.”

The little one hesitates before his dark eyes look my direction. Knowing the judgment that is coming either way, I straighten with a firm flex of muscles and show my fangs at the naïve spirit, a silent warning about what dangers I present to the human race that the little one holds dear. But even as his eyes soften, I know that my show of resentment is wane and without heart.

His responding chirp to the human is pathetic, and the human smiles at getting the answer he had already determined as truth.

“Foolishness,” I spit at the man. “Speak of righteousness all you desire, but do not promise what you cannot fulfill.”

Interested rather than subdued, the human presumes, “You know how I can free you, don’t you?”

“… …”

With a singsong hum, the human begins to step forward, unerringly toward me and the pool of silver blood. Before I can debate the need or practicality of warning him of the nature of my blood, dark rock shoots up from underground and carefully crystallizes into a bridge beneath the sorcerer’s feet without a pause in his casual stride.

At my unavoidably startled gaze, the human quips, “While beautiful at first glance, I’ve seen how your blood reacts like acid against stone. More than that, I’m not fond of the idea of your blood dripping from my clothes.”

I watch dumbly as the human comes closer than any other creature in centuries. He smells of unknown things in addition to the sea water that had dried on his skin and clothes. The white strands in his otherwise dark hair are more apparent, something teasing me about their existence. And his eyes are frightening up close, an endless dark blue like a pool of water where anything dropped within could never be retrieved again.

Bare inches away, the human finally stops his approach. “Now, what must be done to free you from this hell?”

Lost of thought and words, I can only stare at the human who can no longer be a mere hallucination to me.

Cabochon, the fickle little demon, presses his jeweled forehead against the human’s temple. His eyes glaze over with white clouds for a fraction of a moment, clearing as the human exhales a sound of realization. He glances at the shackles binding my arms and ankles, noting the etchings on the unbreakable metal.

“You understand now?” I ask in a pathetic voice that refuses to raise above a quiet plea. “What you promise is more than a single human can achieve. End this farce before—”

“You assume a lot for someone who hasn’t been out in the world for centuries,” the human argues while folding his hands and cracking his knuckles. “That said, you aren’t wrong. It’s not common for humans to control two elements at once, but you already know that I’m not your usual human.” Roaming eyes settle on the shackle binding my mid-arms together, bracing them against my stomach. “That’s perfect. Now, if I understand right, I need only use the two magics at the same time, but on the opposing sides, and that breaks apart the spell. Does that sum it up?”

In a haze, I look down at the shackle held together by health and poison, two conflicting elements joined to keep me imprisoned here for all time. Two of ten elements in total. “Are you that arrogant?”

The human shows a secretive, knowing smile before lifting his hands at either end of the shackle. “Carbuncle, I know you’re feeling protective, but I can’t do this with my magic partly focused on keeping you here.”

The little beast turns his dark eyes to me, wary and hopeful in a terrible expression before he rubs his head under the human child’s chin and vanishes with a purr still lingering in the air. The human’s lips form a silent “thank you” to the absent spirit before his full attention returns to the shackle.

Without an incantation or sharp word, magic flows from both hands with incredible precision through the etched metal. My nose twitches at the smell of magic that isn’t my own nor belonging to the cavern. There is warmth to the scent, a very distracting warmth.

“It’s funny,” the human states as the shackle begins to crack and weaken from his magic, “but I’ve been training to use this ability for a completely different purpose. We have medicines to treat tumors to basically poison and kill cancer cells before they spread, but patients have terrible complications with the treatment. Sometimes fatal complications. Doctors gave up on magic for the purpose because the poison spells hit even harder and broader than medication, but I wondered, what if the poison spell could be contained by precisely placed Esuna spells. I don’t have the accuracy yet, but…”

Metal shatters with a dull clang, and just like that, my mid-arms drop to my sides in unimagined freedom.

“Well now, that was easier…” The human goes silent when looking up at my face, the reason obvious enough by his expression.

I don’t remember the last time I cried. I know I shed a few tears for the loss of Daniella, when her body slumped into an awkward hunch on the crystalline floor. Over the years, I have also seen more than one set of visions that hit too deep, too close to my sore heart. The first time, though… I remember the first time I truly cried and I had sworn it would be the last time.

I hesitate to lift an arm, and almost like it wasn’t mine, it slowly reaches out for the human. He watches as I carefully touch his bare hand and wrist, a featherlight touch that burns me down to my core. “How… How is it that you exist?”

With a short laugh, the human replies, “Now _that_ is a loaded question with a lot of twists and turns. Maybe I’ll tell you the whole story someday. Far away from here,” he adds with a wink.

“I will not be controlled by you.” The words flow out from me, and in that moment, I realize that I’m terrified to be free and what that might mean for my liberator.

“Good,” he replies softly without any time wasted on consideration. “I think you have lived long enough in chains.”

My head aches at his words, my mind at conflict with itself as I want to believe this human and his good intentions, but my experience has shown me that few humans are truly this charitable or honest. Outside of these chains, I would have the power to glimpse into his future and determine the truth for myself, but by the time this magic-user manages to release me, it may be too late to guarantee my soul’s freedom.

Unaware or else uncaring of the internal discord he has created in me, the human lowers to one knee and announces, “Now that I understand how this should work, I’m going to move onto the restraints on your legs. Earth is my weakest element, which means I should tackle this now while I have the energy.”

With no need to respond, I watch the dark-haired human and wonder at his serious expression even as hints of pink speckle his cheeks and he studiously stares at my feet. He isn’t the first to act strangely at my unclothed, natural state, but I thought this one had more control of his emotions. Even so, where I’m usually disappointed by the typical reactions of humans, I can’t seem to stop looking at his face that is pale despite the faint flush. Where does he live his life such that the sun doesn’t color his skin?

“What a waste,” he says with a disappointed sigh, a hand lifting toward one of my legs, still torn and bleeding from the sacrifice to my visions. That hand doesn’t touch me however, instead shifting to the restraint that binds my feet to this prison.

The human kneels silent and still while in deep concentration, and with an exhaled breath, his magic unwinds with the hypnotizing grace of a venomous snake that had been alerted to sweet prey. But instead of attacking per its nature, the human’s magic submits unresisting to the will of its master. Bits of sharp rock nip at my already injured legs as earth and wind collide at the heavy restraint. As forewarned, his control with earth magic isn’t as refined as health magic, but nonetheless, the shackle begins to crack against my skin and reluctantly releases its hold to clashing spells.

The metal shatters with a terrible crack, nothing like the sound the first shackle made, but my interest lies with slipping back my foot several inches, touching new ground for the first time in centuries. It’s the same earth, the same cavern, the same prison… but under the sole of my foot, it feels like a completely different world. A groan leaves me before I can think of proprieties in front of this human.

Strangely, his pleased smile almost draws a second moan from me.

“Your name…” I stare into eyes of evening light, needing to know, “What is your name?”

His smile shifts into something… not victorious given the gentle curl, but certainly belonging to someone who was proven right. “Kalen.”

Kalen: one of fair beauty and spirit. “Hn, your name belies your nature.”

The dark-haired man breathes out a laugh before he lifts from his kneeling position, his face once again too close to mine. “And what do you think my nature is, exactly?”

“A human who believes he can unmake the plans of the All-Creator.”

His eyes harden at my reply as his lips slide into a smirk that is both strange and correct on his youthful face. “If that is your impression of me, then you should know that my name suits me just fine. My full name, Kalen Squall Almasy, represents three men who defied fate at every turn, and I’m most proud of my given name. It was the name stolen from a man whose gentle soul was torn apart and pieced back together in a way that tortures him to this very day. And that man doesn’t even know that he gifted me the name he lost as a child. All he knew was that he liked the sound of it in my father’s voice.”

Lost in the intensity of the man’s words, I hear the rattle of chains before I realize that my knees had bent in momentary weakness. Though startled by the effect this man has over me, I find myself declaring, “You are here for that man. You are here to save his soul.”

“…I was,” Kalen admits before his gaze shifts to the restraint on my left lower arm, “but then I discovered something more important.”

Once again, this human child speaks nonsense, as if I’m supposed to believe that he would abandon his precious namesake for an imprisoned demon. My chest and throat hurt in a manner that is strange and more painful than injuries gained from any battle. But wanting and needing to trust this man, I try to ask, “Why—”

A loud crack sounds in the peace in the cavern, silencing whatever words I could form as we both stare upward at the crystals hanging from overhead. Not obvious at first, a second and third crack echo to reveal fissures in the once perfect crystals. Crystals that never once showed signs stress or wear in all my years here, even after the most demanding of wishes. Never once, and yet now innumerable webs of cracks shimmer in the light of my blood.

Lost in the reality that my once unchanging, stagnant existence has been forever alter by this stubborn magic, I don’t react as one should at the shattering crack that sounds. Hands shove against my chest, the heat of flesh drawing a quiet gasp from me as I swing back as far as the restraints allow. Hot fluid splashes against my stomach, but it’s the loud hiss from the human that finally wakes me from my confused state.

Kalen grabs tightly onto his forearm as blood seeps from between his fingers. My eyes briefly glance to the ground and the bits of crystal scattered at our feet. Judging by the placement of the shards and Kalen’s sliced arm, the lance of stone would have pierced my shoulder or chest, either strike potentially lethal for a human. But I’m not human.

“Fool child. That would not have killed me.”

Kalen laughs through his pain. “Good to know for the next time.”

My hands draw into tight fists at the self-sacrificing nature of this human. “You have made your point, but enough is enough. Make your wish and be taken from here before you are injured further.”

“How could I possibly do that when I know my wish can only cause you pain?”

_Because you’re human_ , is the obvious reply that dances in my head, but that isn’t the answer I speak out: “Because you deserve good fortune and kindness. In that, my pain would be a blessing.”

Kalen glances up with a warm gleam to his eyes. “Hyne, I love it when I’m proven right.” With no additional explanation, he speaks a sharp word of healing, but only a basic spell that knits the veins and skin without consideration of long-term stability. And when he reaches toward the shackle on my left lower arm, it’s clear that he had decided to save his limited source of magic in the continue misguided attempt to free me.

Electricity sparks with white light in the cavern at the same moment warm water caresses my wrist, the conflicting elements forced into the shackle to sever the magical bond. Beyond the crackle of angered energy and the sizzle of water, however, I can hear the continued cracks of crystal and tiny clicks of slivers falling upon stone. This isn’t safe for the human, for Kalen, and the more I resolve to that conclusion, the louder and more frequent the cracks seem to sound.

Though his magic never strays from the shackle, Kalen glances upward with a narrowed, thought-filled gaze, also bewildered by my prison coming apart piece by piece. With no answer to be found amongst stone, his attention goes back to the shackle when it starts to weaken against his superior magic. As the metal crumbles, I feel dust speckle against my face and I look straight above to discover a dark, too large crack behind the beauty of translucent crystal.

With a rumbling sound, the crack shoots outward into a sharp arc until managing to curl up into itself, creating a deadly circle in the matter of seconds.

Distracted by his repeated victory, Kalen doesn’t notice the ceiling when it fails, even as he brushes dirt from his sweaty forehead.

The world becomes black and white, and only Kalen is a point of color that I know must be saved. My heart burning with fire and need, I lunge forward, fully realizing that three of my arms are still bound and will limit in my reach, but even a few inches could be the difference between Kalen’s life and death. He startles at my sharp movement, tripping backward against the small bridge he had created for himself and he slowly starts to fall such that he would land in the pool of poisonous blood that will surely eat him alive.

A scream sounds in the confines of the cavern, my voice raw and tortured when I realize that, in the effort to give me new life, Kalen is about to lose everything. Without care of ripping my arms from their sockets, I dig my toes into stone and surge forward with all of my strength, stretching out my free arms as far as possible… and against reasonable expectation, nothing stops me nor slows me down whatsoever. Kalen is suddenly against my chest, and by reflex alone, my arms wrap around him in a protective shield as falling rock hits my back. Shoved forward, my awkwardly sprinting feet splash once, twice in the pool of silver poison. I’m moving with too much force and too little space, and with little memory of how to run let alone how to stop, I collide against unforgiving stone of the cavern wall.

Knocked backward, I fall to the ground with Kalen on top of me, both he and I groaning at the rough landing. Dazed, I eventually stare at a wall that is strangely unfamiliar to me, and with slow understanding, I recognize dangling silver as the broken chains from my bindings. I carefully lift an arm in front of me, one of my upper arms that had yet to be freed. Aside from a faint redness from my initial struggles, there is no injury to the limb that should have been, at the least, dislocated from my reckless action.

“Hyne above, did you happen to see the dragon that hit me?”

Startled by the rough voice, I look over at the human still draped across my body. Kalen presses a hand against the side of his head, and while hidden by the darkness of his hair, bright red blood becomes visible as he inadvertently smears it against his skin.

I reach out without knowing how I can help, healing magic never one I could control, but Kalen leans back before I can touch his hand.

“Endespithre…” he breaths with shock and amazement, finally recognizing our positions and what it means. Slowly and unbelievably, an honest and beautiful smile overtakes the man’s expression as he grabs my hand. “I thought… I _knew_ you had the power to free yourself, but how—no, why--?”

A crash of more crystal sounds behind us, and I quickly roll over the human before the subsequent splash of my blood can harm him. Trapped under my body, Kalen’s eyes are wide and dark while staring up at me, but not from a sliver of fear. No, while the cavern continues to crumble around us, his body is relaxed in perplexing trust toward my decision to protect him.

I move without thought and place my lips upon his as I’ve witnessed humans do time and time again, both in my life before this prison and within the visions I’ve endured. The soft heat of his lips surprises me while also encouraging me to feel more. Kalen sighs against my massaging lips and opens his mouth for an entirely unanticipated experience as his wet, rough tongue laps against and into my mouth. I dare only a testing touch of my tongue against his, but the sensations are too much and I’m forced to jerk away before this human breaks me with nothing more than a strange caress.

Reddened lips form a sly smirk while Kalen watches me. “So, you know how to kiss.”

“It is not difficult,” I reply, hating how my breath sounds unsteady to my hearing.

He hums lightly as the smirk widens. “Well then, that was a nice reward for my efforts today.”

My stomach clenches as I realize that this human isn’t being untrue, that he expects no other reward beyond my gratitude. My hands flatten against cold stone and I feel the power that is failing but remains for now. “Make your wish.”

His lips fall into an unhappy expression, his eye abruptly serious. “I already told you that I can’t make a wish that would only leave you in pain. Hell, my mother would be disappointed in me, too.”

“Your mother…?”

Kalen hesitates before admitting, “He’s sick. Cursed, really, for no reason beyond being an orphan in the wrong place at the wrong time”

My turn now to smile at the human, I say simply, “That should be enough,” and draw upon the strings of time to search for the future that Kalen would desire above all others. It’s immediately apparent that family is important to this human, a defining element to his existence. And what a strange existence, the child of two men. I’ve witnessed such a spell twice in my history, once in practice and once in a future that never came to pass.

With only a few minor cuts, I almost laugh at further proof of this human’s absurd nature. Kalen is clearly searching for the cure to his mother’s illness, and even in the simplest of futures, he succeeds. In a few instances, the timing works against him and he fails to save his mother’s life, but… I inhale at the realization that this cure is also necessary for Kalen’s extended life. This human, his dark hair speckled with troublesome white, will die too soon without that cure, and my heart aches at the lives that wouldn’t be saved by him as he selflessly saved mine.

No, that cannot be the fate of my human.

I gather the strings of the future close to me, uncaring of how they cut my flesh as I search for the perfect future. I do laugh then at just how many futures are fitting for Kalen’s purposes, but I dare to dig further and find a path that may also have a place for me, too. Look at me, I’m mere seconds into my freedom, and I manage to be as selfish as ever.

“What is so funny?” Kalen asks, the wariness in his voice understandable but unwanted.

“You, human child,” I reply as I open every eye to view upon him and remember all of his colors and shapes, burning them into my memory to hold with me until the next time we meet. “You sacrificed to come here, risked your life for the chance of a wish that was almost certain without my power.”

Wide eyes slowly moisten without shedding the tears within. “Mom…. He’ll be okay?”

“You are strange. You hold confidence in everything but your ability to save the lives of those most important to you.”

He breathes a funny laugh. “I don’t know if you just insulted me or praised me.”

Before I can consider a response, the crash of a large wave sounds before the echoing torrents ring out within the cavern, moments before seawater rushes down the stairs and floods the broken prison.

“ _Cabochon!_ ” I yell out even as I quickly stand and pull the human into my arms and out of the water tainted with my blood. Kalen still hisses, however, the lightly seeping cuts along my arms unavoidably touching his bare skin.

Cabochon appears, the small but feisty spirit appearing despite his name being something different in these times. Dark eyes against green fur are hard and uncertain once noticing my unbound state, but despite his bias, he promptly takes in the sight of the injured human and the rushing water. Cabochon inches closer while hovering in midair, worry radiating from the small guardian… Ah, guardian… force? Was that the term the human had used earlier?

“Take him,” I demand, even if my tone sounds more like a plea. “Draw whatever strength you need from me, but return this human to his family.”

“Wait, I can’t force Carbuncle… I swam here…”

“Your head has been struck and your eyes are not focusing like they should.” Still feeling tense resistance in the human, I look to his face and silently note the added weight of blood to his dark hair. “If you drown, you will waste my attempt to guide your future and your mother will surely die within a handful of lunar cycles.”

Kalen goes still at the question, his expression impossible to read. “That wasn’t fair.”

“I want your life, not your approval,” I retort before lifting a hand to Cabochon. “Take everything you need, but only to save the human. I will find my own path back to you both.”

Cabochon wastes only a few seconds of indecision before landing on my extended hand. He draws hard and fast on my open reserves, and there is no need to assure him to take plenty to protect Kalen. Cabochon chitters in a quiet tone, almost lost in the torrents of water: <Don’t fault him for his kindness. He is also a beast per his lineage.>

I hum to myself at the warning, curious if it’s Kalen or his family I should fear the most. Our future time apart appears to be wise, a time for research and a time to learn everything I should know about this new world without Kalen’s so-called kindness tainting my opinion.

Somewhat surprisingly, Cabochon stops drawing upon my reserves, leaving me plenty to save myself when he could have drained me dry. I wouldn’t have stopped him, either.

Without a word or warning, Cabochon places a beautiful shield around Kalen and lifts him from my arms. It’s harder than it should be to allow the human to be taken from me, but the water is already at my thighs and only rising. My eyes meet with midnight blue as we watch each other as the distance grows, Cabochon directing the human toward the gaping hole left in the cavern ceiling.

“We will meet again, Kalen,” I promise even though he shouldn’t be able to hear me. “Until then, live, my human.”

~ > < ~

_“You shouldn’t be here.”_

_The light, gentle voice barely echoed within chamber haphazardly created from a cavern beneath the foundations of the Almar Castle. Compared to the rough walls, great care had been placed into the intricate runes carved throughout the cavern that concealed its existence from scrying magic. The spell work had been thorough and served its purpose well to hide the object hidden within: a circular bed of machinery that supported a large cylinder about the same size and width of an overindulgent human male. Inside the etched glass, deep redness flowed erratically between mist and liquid, the magic unsettled and angry at being confined._

_Endespithre stood unmoving in front of the humanmade setup, his numerous eyes bright with red light. He wore the traditional robes of a spirit bound to the royal line, the white linen decorated in silver designs that normally shimmered with the lightest of movements. In deep contrast, ebony hair flowed throughout the folds of the pristine robe, its length covering his back and touching the heels of his bare feet._

_“Endes,” the voice pleaded as a young woman stepped out from the corridor that led into the chamber. Her golden hair shone in the dark cavern, gaining a red hue from the light of the cylinder. While her pale eyebrows furrowed with concern, her mouth was set into a resolute line and her pale blue eyes showed the stubbornness of her royal blood. “Endes, how are you here?”_

_Ebony hair rippled as Endespithre tilted his face just enough to see the woman from the opened eyes at his temple. “Your men did well enough to hide this place from my sight, Princess Carmelina, if that is your worry,” he replied with open disdain, “but while your mages were careful, your plan goes beyond the bounds of irresponsibility.”_

_Carmelina lifted a hand to the side of her neck and stroked the image of a spider on pale skin. “Don’t be so cold. When we joined, you gave me your ability to see into everything that has yet to come. You gifted me this power—”_

_“I joined with you to end this war, as you promised. To end the deaths of innocent children and spirits.”_

_“I know. I know, Endes, but with your sight, this was the only answer—”_

_“_ THIS _was_ not _the_ only answer!” _Endespithre roared within the cavern, his voice echoing off the jagged walls._

_Carmelina jerked back at the accusation and flatted her hand against her chest, but where there should have been fear in her expression, her full lips tightened with irritation. “You’re right. There were many, so many futures that I suffered to witness, and none of them held anything more than death and destruction. Ultimately, I had to choose from that tragic lot.”_

_“You chose wrong.”_

_“And how would you know of my choices?” Carmelina demanded. “When we joined, you told me that you required either great power or, more simply, a human to bring lasting change to the future of humankind. You claimed that your power would be mine to bear. If any of that were true…” Eyes of light blue widened with exaggerated horror. “Did you deceive me?”_

_“The deceiver fears to be deceived…” A raspy, uncomfortable laugh came from Endespithre as he turned to fully face the golden-haired woman. His eyes burned like fresh embers as he slowly pushed aside his robe to free all of his limbs from the constraining material. “You came to me, Princess, with a drained child spirit in your arms. You begged for the strength to save that child and to end the war. Against my better judgment and experience, I chose to believe your intent, but I am no fool.” With a fake smile, Endespithre displayed his extended fangs to the princess. “I may have given you the future of humans, but the future of spirits will always remain mine.”_

_Carmelina shivered at the spirit’s gradual transformation from his appealing human form to the dangerous creature hidden within. “You deceived me—”_

_“You have_ murdered _spirits for the sake of creating this weapon,” Endespithre declared with a fist hammering the side of glass cylinder, provoking a panicked cry from Carmelina. “Tell me, Princess, where is the spirit you first brought to me? The one you would ‘treasure’ like your own child.”_

_Biting her lower lip, Carmelina hesitated before answering, “For the sake of this kingdom, sacrifices must be made.”_

_“Your life would have been the kinder sacrifice.”_

_A gasp of realization escaped the shaking woman. “You knew… You knew if I gave myself in marriage, if I gave myself to that beastly man, that would end the war…”_

_“And you knew as well,” Endespithre replied as patches of his skin darkened with black scales._

_“No… No, I couldn’t submit myself to that end, the beaten wife of a terrible man. I’m meant for greater things. I’m meant to guide this kingdom into an empire! I have seen it all. No, more than that, I have_ lived _it!” Carmelina shrieked like a trapped animal._

_“It would be a doomed empire born from the deaths of untold numbers of spirits and humans.”_

_“Enough! You, my father, my brothers, all think me a fool, but your power is mine to command, and with it, I will create a lasting empire that will make all previous kingdoms look like pebbles.”_

_“…It appears your mind has been made.” Endespithre lifted a hand and casually watched as black talons grew out from beneath his nailbeds. “In truth, I wanted nothing to do with this future, but I see now that it was inevitable. The All-Creator may have given humans Her shape and Her blessing to command spirits, but I am done obeying the echoes of Her forgotten voice.”_

_“You are_ mine _!” Carmelina declared with a hand clawed at the spider tattoo on her neck. “You cannot—”_

_Endespithre lashed out his arm, glass shattering under the strength of his clawed hand. Freed of the cylinder, the ethereal blood of drained spirits sung with a piercing tone of vengeance as the magic gathered around Endespithre. The wild energy flowed freely into Endespithre, causing the spirit to become darker and larger as he grew into his part-dragon form._

_“I should give you my thanks, Princess Carmelina,” Endespithre said, his voice deep and booming within the confides of the cavern. “My actions today will certainly result in the end of my existence, and yet I am free. For too long, I held hope that humankind could be anything more than the arrogant, insatiable creatures I have witnessed you to be. But at last, you have shown that my optimism was baseless, and I have nothing left to restrain me.”_

_Carmelina dropped to her knees, quivering at the growing size of the dark creature that was an uncomfortable mix of spider and dragon. She still held a hand over the tattoo at her neck and whimpered pleadingly, “You cannot kill me… can you?”_

_The spirit’s laugh shook the walls of the cavern, causing shattered glass to chime as it bounced on stone. “Oh Princess, I am about to destroy two kingdoms in your name. There are many others who will happily see to your death without my direct involvement.”_

_Pleased at the horrified but resigned expression of his human master, Endespithre shook out his middle legs to free the folds of leathery wings. With a heavy jump, the spirit broke through the ceiling of the cavern and emerged into the throne room. Cries of nobles and servants echoed throughout the chamber, enticing Endespithre as he lashed out with his numerous limbs. Each death meant one less human to control or drain an innocent spirit, one less human to change the current path he had set himself upon, one less human to create another pitiful excuse of a living being…_

_“Never again,” Endespithre growled under his poison-filled breath. “I will never again serve a human, may the All-Creator strike me dead.”_

* * *

[Seifer]

There are times when I’m rudely reminded how, at my most basic level, I’m little more than an orphan who doesn’t want to be abandoned. A selfish child who would rather death above someone else leaving me first.

And Hyne be damned, it shouldn’t be my grandson making me feel like this.

My elbows digging into my thighs and my chin rested on folded hands, I sit on the edge of a wooden chair that was purchased as a decorative accent piece without any consideration for comfort. Inches away on a ridiculously large bed rests Kalen, the kid pale where he isn’t burnt or bruised and his hair mussed from the bandages wrapped around his head. Back in the day, no one cared if you had a concussion when performing healing magic. Magic was supposed to fix everything. But apparently there have been studies that concussions and magic get along as well as hard liquor and cheap beer, and so the island doctor insisted on stitches, no magic, for the kid’s head wound.

“He was supposed to come to us first,” I say for probably the tenth time tonight. Frustratingly, my mind simply can’t let go of the thought.

A noncommittal grunt travels from across the room, Squall leaning next to the open balcony doors with his arms crossed over his chest and a booted foot propped against the wall. It’s such a cliché Squall pose that I momentarily think back to Balamb Garden and how much I miss his SeeD uniform. The good ol’ days when I didn’t have much to lose beyond Squall and my sword, and now… I have too much, far too much.

“Did you…” I take a steadying breath, surprised that I even need one. “Did you see his wrist?”

“Seifer—”

“Don’t tell me I’m overthinking this, Squall. It’s barely fucking healed, one good flick away from opening again.” I rub my mouth against the back of my knuckles, hating the words I need to say. “Kalen’s been stressed, on the edge for a long time, and I gave him that final push—”

“Enough, Seifer,” Squall says in his uniquely soft voice that demands to be obeyed. “Since apparently your senility is getting the better of you, let me remind you that I was the one to make Kalen join us. We both assumed it would take days for him to discover the legends of this island.”

“Days or hours, it doesn’t matter. The kid would always come to us whenever he heard about some miracle that could save his mother. It was… It was...”

“Something you shared,” Squall says with a hint of a smile in his voice.

I look at the unconscious kid, reluctantly admitting that Kalen had become a fine young man at some point. I see Squall in his cheek bones and body frame, but Seveyn gave him the shape of his face and the dexterity of hands that helps him to heal, that helps him to be a fucking doctor in a family of killers.

“He shares more than your willingness to believe in a dream, you know.” At my scoff, Squall continues to say, “He puts everything into his studies and work, just as you put everything into your blade. Neither of you have learned to protect yourselves, to keep a little piece of yourself safe. You’re both too damned reckless.”

I choke on a laugh, the ridiculousness of his statement bringing it out of me even though I don’t feel like laughing. “I’m not the reckless one, love.”

“But you are single-minded, especially when the success of a mission is on the line.”

I lean back in the chair that finds new ways to be uncomfortable. “This kid… Half the time I talk with him, I have no idea what he’s going on about, but he gets that excited look to his eyes and starts waving his hands like Laguna does. And did you notice how it’s not random lately? It’s like he’s sewing stitches, as if he can’t stop being a doctor even for ten seconds.”

“…I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s pretty fucking amazing. He doesn’t hesitate before helping others, but in his way, not ours, and I’m surprised how much I prefer it that way. He’s nothing like us, and yet, I think he got the best parts of us, too.”

Instead of an expected nonverbal response from Squall, an annoyed sigh sounds, “…Can…the eulogy…wait…?”

I jerk up at the scratchy voice, the chair nearly toppling underneath me as I sit forward to stare dumbly at the kid and his barely open eyes. About fifty questions come to mind, but instead of uttering a word, I can only look at Kalen and hope that I didn’t imagine his voice.

His eyebrows furrowing, Kalen asks, “Or… am I that… bad?”

“You aren’t,” Squall says as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “You did give us a scare, though. Didn’t you learn in basic first aid that you don’t go to sleep when you have a concussion?”

“Nh, I tried to stay awake… Was too tired….”

Squall runs a careful hand through chestnut hair flecked with white, and damn me if there aren’t noticeably more pale strands compared to when he left the other day. Likely sharing my thoughts, Squall frowns and asks, “What happened?”

“…happened...?” Kalen abruptly gasps, his eyes going wide before he attempts to sit up, but Squall is faster and keeps the boy on his back. Kalen grabs onto Squall’s wrist and demands in a firmer voice, “How long have I been out? Did anything happen? Have people… Have you heard if anyone…?”

“It has been two days since you left the embassy,” Squall answers, not quite hiding his disappointment at Kalen’s disappearance and the cheap note he had left behind. “Carbuncle brought you to us, unconscious and beaten. Other than that, we don’t know anything.”

A complex expression crosses Kalen’s face before he relaxes into the mattress. “Thank Hyne… I mean, I was mostly certain that he wouldn’t… that he wasn’t…”

“What are you talking about, kid?” I ask, finally finding my voice. “Where the fuck have you been, and who roughed you up like this?”

Kalen looks at me, his eyes the color of the deepest parts of the ocean in the moment before he shows a strange smile. “Are you thinking to defend my honor?”

The chair creaks, complaining at my tight hold on the armrest. “Tell me the name, Kalen, and I’ll make his death slow and painful. Unless Squall gets there first, of course. He’s never been one to take his time.”

With a glance at his silent and stone-faced grandmother, Kalen sighs and shakes his head. “There wasn’t a guy involved. I… I made it to _Hera’wis_ , the place I mentioned in my note.” Before Squall or I can get in a questioning word about how Kalen could reach an impossible place, Kalen rushes to explain, “But it wasn’t some mythical island that made wishes come true. It was an island created to imprison a very powerful, very unpredictable GF who can make certain futures a reality.”

The bruises, the exhaustion, the additional white hairs… “Don’t tell me that you freed some unknown, possibly revenge driven GF into the world?”

“Of course he did,” Squall says as if there wasn’t another option to consider. Then again, Squall was the one to let Bahamut loose into the world, so maybe it does makes perfect sense to him.

“I know it sounds stupid,” Kalen defends, “but he’s been tortured for centuries for a crime that any sane person would commit for the same reasons. He blames himself as much as the humans who failed him, and I couldn’t bare it. When I looked into his eyes, I saw… I saw someone who was lost and had given up, but he still had his pride and couldn’t ask for help… No, he thought he didn’t need help or…” When Kalen’s voice falters, his gaze shifts to me in a silent declaration that I can’t decipher.

When Squall hums in understanding, I demand, “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll explain later,” Squall says in a tone that I know means the opposite, but I’m supposed to shut up anyway. “What happened when you freed this GF?”

“He was… grateful,” Kalen says that hints something more. “He gave Carbuncle the energy to get me to land and—" As if startled, Kalen pushes up into a seated position, Squall not preventing the move this time. His hand shaky, the kid presses his palm against his forehead and takes a moment to think before his lips form a slow, dangerously manic smile. “He gave it to me. He didn’t have to, and I told him not to, but the idiot… He gave it to me anyway.”

“Gave you what?” I demand, my voice rough and longing to hurt someone, something, for injuring my grandson, but when Kalen meets my eyes, his expression is of pure wonder and hope.

“A future where Mom is saved.”

I can’t remember the last time Kalen showed honest belief like this. Maybe when he finished his undergraduate work, maybe a year or less into medical school, but it’s been a couple years since then. Witnessing that returned hope, that warmth to his dark eyes, I can’t find the strength to be cruel and ask hard questions.

“Are you so certain?” Squall asks, proving once again that he isn’t the type of man to spare a person the pain of reality. “Do you know he had that ability in the first place, let alone that he would help you?”

“I don’t know for certain, but…” Kalen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before saying, “He said that I was always meant to find the answer, that my only obstacle was time. He bled several times over to find that time for me, and suddenly, that smothering weight of needing to be fast enough and smart enough… That pressure is gone, and I can finally think again.”

I sigh at the wistful tone of voice and I forcefully remind myself that the kid is talking about a GF and not some smooth-talker he met at a local bar. “You know, your family has been telling you from the start that you’d be able to figure this out.”

With a humoring smile, Kalen counters, “You aren’t a magic-infused spirit with the power to see into the future.”

“That GF might not be either. I’ve heard much more creative and profitable lies from prisoners begging for their freedom.”

“Hn, except that he didn’t need to promise me anything. I had already freed him when he told me that future.”

I scoff at the unsurprising reality. “That’s your thrice-damned Leonhart blood coming through. You’re so eager to save a lost soul that you forget to negotiate first.”

Kalen smiles proudly at what others in the mercenary world would consider a weakness.

Sighing, Squall pushes up from the bed and announces, “Your parents will be here within the hour.”

Dark blue eyes widen in surprise. “That’s not necessary. Mom certainly doesn’t need to—”

“Your mother wants to verify with his own eyes that you are okay,” Squall says without argument. “They would have been here sooner, but Isan was on a mission and difficult to reach.”

“I’m not a child…” Kalen mutters with an unhelpfully childish pout.

“If anything, kid, that just makes us worry more,” I say as I stand up and gently ruffle dark brown hair, careful of the bandaging there. “How are you feeling right now? Do you need food? More rest before your parents show up and read us the riot act?”

Kalen winces at that reality. “I’ll explain to them that this was all my fault, that you had nothing to do with it.”

I bark out a laugh at that one. “Come on, kid, you think that Squall and I didn’t know about that magical, wish-giving island of yours? Why the fuck did you think we wanted you here for ten days, hn?”

With a stunned look to his eyes, Kalen glances over to Squall who has mastered the omniscient look in his years as headmaster and President. His brain still muddled and not processing as fast as usual, Kalen stares at his grandmother and asks simply, “Why?”

“You lost faith in your dream,” Squall replies, respecting the power of believing in something as simple and intangible as a dream, even though his serious nature prevents him from succumbing to the lure of dreams himself.

Kalen blinks a few times, skillfully hiding the moisture there before bowing his head. “Thank you.”

At the whispered words, Squall nods once while also subtly directing me towards the exit. Given the kid’s emotional state, it’s clear that Kalen is still exhausted and needs some time to focus before dealing with his parents. While the silent type, Seveyn is a natural at laying on the guilt until a person is rendered motionless, especially if that person isn’t prepared.

“All right, kid, I’ll have the kitchen staff put together something for the whole family. Until then, get some rest. The sleepy and helpless look should keep your parents from being too rough with you. For now, at least.”

Although his head stays bowed, Kalen manages a weak smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Squall leads the way out of our suite, his eyes unfocused as his thoughts take him to another place. Knowing my husband, he is already planning several strategies about how to handle this new, unknown GF. While it was only a moment, Kalen seemed truly afraid that the GF had done something terrible, which suggests that Kalen knows exactly what kind of damage the spirit can do. And my beautiful lion never learned how to be anything less than a hero.

But considering we have yet to hear of any carnage, that means we have time. And I have a question to ask.

Spying a helpfully placed pillar, I grab the crook of Squall’s arm and direct him toward the shadowed corner. And being my husband, Squall allows the manhandling with only a hint of warning in his eyes. Any other person would have had a knife at their throat, the slim blade hidden in the lining of his suit jacket. A steel blade that was my gift to him for our eleventh anniversary.

“So, what was it that you weren’t planning to tell me later?”

Squall stares silently, honestly forgetting something mentioned only minutes earlier. Apparently that’s how determined he was to not tell me a damned thing.

“When the kid was talking about why he stupidly decided to free that GF. You acted like you understood whatever the hell he was rambling on about.”

It takes another few seconds, but stormy blue eyes eventually brighten with the memory. “You really don’t know?”

A growl in my throat, I reply, “I wouldn’t ask if I already knew. And for the record, I don’t like you telling me that we’ll talk about it later when it comes to family. The political shit, fine, I don’t mind you brushing off the details I couldn’t care less about, but not family.”

Full lips show a twitch of a smile. “Seifer, he was talking about you.”

I stare at the brunet, my brain having a hard time processing an answer I wasn’t expecting. “Wait, what? He released some crazed GF because he thought I would? Because we all know that I don’t do the hero thing unless you’re in the lead.”

“He was talking about your habit of thinking you don’t deserve anything you have right now. That your past, as misguided as it was, should have condemned you to a life of misery and pain.”

I find my breath short and my chest hurting at the direct words. “I don’t—”

“Why did it take you almost two decades to propose to me?”

I frown at the cheap shot. Correct, but cheap. “That’s not fair, and I still don’t see what this has to do with a twice-damned GF.”

“Kalen says the GF looked lost and tortured.” Squall lifts a hand to stroke my cheek, his fingertips scraping against the stubble grown after our late night watching over the kid. “For a stubborn spirit like that, all you can do is give some direction and a little shove, and hope they realize there are more productive ways to find redemption for unfortunate mistakes.”

I swallow back the instinct to fight his words, knowing that I’d lose anyway. “You may have been able to tame me, Squally-boy, but we’re talking a potentially dangerous GF here.”

Squall not-so-lightly pats my cheek. “And we will plan for that, but I trust Kalen. He’s smart and has learned the lessons of your paranoid nature. Kalen wouldn’t have acted without thinking through the consequences first.”

I press my forehead against Squall’s, our scars touching. “That’s your weakness, you know. Faith in others.”

“It hasn’t failed me yet.”

While I could come up with various arguments to the ridiculous statement, I chose to stay silent about it and believe in Squall’s idealism for now. “So, mighty Leonhart-Almasy, just in case our young grandson was mistaken, how do you defeat a GF who can see the future?”

“I could always send you after him. You never do as expected, after all.”

“Careful, I might think you’re praising me.”

“Hn, that would be dangerous, indeed,” Squall provokes, his lips ticked into a sinful smile.

Not able to leave any opportunity fly past, I trap those lips with mine and hum with delight when Squall encourages a deeper tasting. It appears someone else has been riled up by talk of our long past. My husband, my love, my always… Being a man who lives in a future made possible by one person’s forgiveness, I may be forced to give that GF the second chance my grandson gifted him.

But only that one chance and nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As fair warning, it's going to take me forever to finish this story. For a moment there back in February/March, I had quit a horrible job and was unemployed with all of the time in the world to get some writing done. And I did write, and man, did it feel good. Then, out of nowhere, I had a new job with an immediate start date. In total, I had two weeks off before getting back to the grind, and while I appreciate having the new job, once again my desire to write was smothered into nothing. I really thought I would have a month or two before the next job, and that is the only reason I dared to start posting more of "Enduring Life," since I thought I might finish it before the next job, but no such opportunity. I apologize now for the delayed chapters, and THANK YOU to everyone for your patience and encouragement. <3

[Endespithre]

“What was your name again?”

I smile at the head nurse, Molly Stalwart, a stern-looking woman who has clearly lived a life of sacrifice to her work with too many sleepless nights and equally too many donuts. Unashamed of her faults, she wears balloon-speckled scrubs that cheerfully display every curve of her body and brighten the wrinkles at her eyes. How health professionals can poorly manage their own health is one of the countless confusing traits I’ve witnessed in humans in the last year. Contradictory, strange creatures…

And here I am, in search of one uniquely confounding human, and the hypocrisy is not lost on me.

“Ens, ma’am. Ens Webber.”

“Ah right, Webber. From Deling City, was it?”

“Technically Bishop’s Cross, about 20 miles—”

Nurse Stalwart interrupts with a waved hand, briefly showing the unique callouses and scars of someone who does a variety of tasks in the hospital. “That’s fine. You aren’t the first person to try their luck transferring to the big city after doing time in a small-town clinic. Your references spoke highly of you, so either you are as good as they say, or they are desperate to be rid of you.”

I don’t dare let my smile slip, reminding myself that smiles are important to humans, especially when they are determining your worth and if you’re a person who can be trusted. It’s foolish to place all of that faith in a smile, but I’m happy to take advantage of that shallow thinking.

“I suppose that’s a mystery we’ll have to solve together, ma’am.”

The imposing woman stares without a hint of her inner thoughts, likely waiting for my flinch or fidget under the scrutiny. Compared to my first attempt to integrate with humans, I feel assured by my physical guise that hasn’t changed much since my prison, aside from my hair shortened to a few fingers’ breadth. As such, it’s a simple matter to meet the woman’s gaze and wait for her eventual response. Patience is a strangely powerful trick against these short-lived humans.

With an accepting grunt, Nurse Stalwart shows a tired smile. “I suppose you’ll do, but don’t think for a second that you know how to handle a place like Esthar Memorial Hospital. We have a certain way of doing things around here, understood?” Before I show even a hint of a nod, Nurse Stalwart calls out behind her, “Hey Nao, we’ve got that newbie for you to train. Try not to break him before lunch, okay?”

A husky laugh sounds as a young woman appears with an electronic clipboard braced against her chest and a gleam of humor to her warm brown eyes. “Molly, stop dragging me into your bad cop routine. You know that I’m desperate for more help during the off-hours.”

“Never admit that you’re a desperate woman, sweetie. You’re better than that,” Nurse Stalwart says with a wink.

While the young nurse repeats that breathy laugh of hers, I take in the features of my new mentor. Her dark hair is loosely bound into low pigtails, a look that normally seems immature on grown women but somehow flatters the shape of her face and matches the warmth in her dark hazel eyes. There are hints of makeup on her face: nothing too bold, but subtly covers the flaws she doesn’t want others to see. Her scrubs are basic lavender, but her lanyard depicts dancing rodents of some genre. It’s details like that which make me question the probably of me ever understanding humankind.

“Ready to get to work, newbie?”

“Of course, Nurse Kadowaki. I’ll follow your lead.”

She stills for a moment, glances down at her name tag that is hidden behind the clipboard held against her chest and then shows suspicious expression. “I don’t remember meeting before, Nurse Webber. Either you’re diligent enough to do your research before starting a new job, or…”

At the open suggestion, I try to look embarrassed. “I went to a few seminars led by your grandmother, Reika Kadowaki, and she happened to introduce you once. Her panel on the necessity of medicine in a world of healing magic left a deep impression in me.”

Her lips forming a pleased “oh,” Nao Kadowaki straightens with pride and says, “She’s the reason I became a nurse. All of the lives she saved, all of the people she guided to a better path… I guess I didn’t want it to end with her retirement.”

I make the proper noise of agreement, although my thoughts briefly scatter to the secret legacy of Reika Kadowaki that I had discovered with my sight unbound by time. Without her reluctant decision to send Seifer Almasy toward Squall Leonhart after the war, Isan Almasy wouldn’t have led a life that intersected with Seveyn Zehrou. And without their meeting, Kalen wouldn’t exist in this universe, let alone in my life path. I owe the Kadowaki family a unique debt, and I intend to repay it as best I can.

Nao pats her electronic clipboard against my chest. “Also, we use first names around here, so call me ‘Nao’ going forward.”

“Thank you, Nao. And please, I’m Ens.”

“Well then, Ens, shall we get to work? First stop, the ICU.”

I follow the dark-haired woman through the main floor that is ten times larger than the last hospital where I worked, and every inch shines with technology I haven’t witnessed beyond pages in medical journals. Even so, some standards never change: IVs still require the proper placement of a needle, soiled bedsheets still require changing, and patients still require the reassurance that everything will work out for the best. Esthar Memorial is both strange and familiar as I’m walked through standard procedures, the lessons almost distracting me from my reason to come here.

Over an hour later, it’s the shuffling of many feet that makes me look up once I finish checking the vitals of an older woman who had suffered a heart attack the previous day. A herd of humans enters the ICU at a side entrance, mostly young and fresh-faced humans that reek of inexperience and fear. With a single glance, I can sense which of the lot will complete the full journey to becoming a doctor: it isn’t good odds for this group.

My gaze moves to the focal point of the group and my breath stalls at the sight of thick dark-brown hair flecked with white strands. My eyes then take in the lean body hidden by a white doctor’s coat and his refined hands that flit through the air to punctate instruction. Kalen’s voice drifts toward me, and I briefly close my eyes at the memory of him saying my name for the first time…

A hand bumps against my shoulder, forcing me to look over at Nao and her smug smile.

“I warn all of my nurses this, but don’t get your hopes up with Dr. Kalen Almasy. He has a charismatic way of making you feel like you’re the only one he’s looking at, that you’re special somehow, but the reality is that his first love is his family, his second love is being a doctor, and there isn’t much room for anything else in his life.”

I stare at the nurse, curious at how these humans can be both so perceptive about emotions and so blind about the rest of the world around them. As if proving just that, my expression is quickly misinterpreted.

Lifting her hands in apology, Nao says, “Oh no, I’m sorry for the assumption if other men aren’t your thing, but the way you were looking—”

“I met him once,” I state, speaking the truth within lies of omission. “Dr. Almasy saved my life.”

Nao blinks once and then twice, surprise slowing her thoughts before she says, “Oh my…I wouldn’t have guessed…” With clear uncertainty of what to say, she states, “If you received mouth-to-mouth resuscitation in the process, you made it further with him than the majority of the hospital staff.”

I somehow manage a short laugh instead of the growl that burns in my chest at her jesting comment. While I’ve learned that humans enjoy their sarcasm and rarely mean what they say, I still don’t care for the suggestion that Kalen is a prize to be shared with others. He is _mine_ … as much as anyone can claim ownership of a flitting breeze, but even so, I have no interest in others reaching for what I want to be mine alone.

“May I ask… What happened?”

Considering my answer, I look back to the lecturing doctor and note that his shoulders seem broader than I last remember. His white coat unfortunately makes it difficult to guess what else lies beneath the stiff fabric. “He found me when I thought I was lost forever and had no place in this world. Beyond that, I don’t like speaking of it.”

Nao makes a noise somewhere between understanding and concern. “Then I won’t ask again. But if you ever need to talk…”

The offer barely registers to my hearing when, at that same moment, midnight blue eyes shift in my direction. Kalen’s mild curiosity in a new face slowly transforms into bewildered recognition and then into open shock as his lips part and form my name without a flicker of hesitation to remember it. By the grace of the All-Creator, I’m not certain how I stayed away long enough for this moment, for these first few seconds of the future that holds the most promise of my continued existence in his life, but I feel in my confused heart that it was worth it.

And yet, even with the knowledge of _when_ to get what I desire, the _how_ is cruelly elusive as I only saw events from Kalen’s webbing of the future. My own future is one place I’m not allowed to walk, although my deeper and most desperate dreams occasionally stumble upon those webs. Gifts from the All-Creator, as useless as they may be. As such, I haven’t truly _seen_ anything from Kalen’s web, but rather found the voids in which I assume my presence has disrupted that vision of the future. It’s a bold assumption, but also encouraging with how much of his future is obscured from me.

Kalen takes a step toward me, but because the universe is hateful and cold, his advance is interrupted when the ICU doors slide open and a manic voice cries out:

“ _Death to all sorceresses!_ ”

The apparent battle cry preceding him, a bloodied man dressed in a military uniform darts into the wide room. It takes little more than a second to identify everything as fake about him: his injuries are shallow despite the amount of blood, his uniform is too large in the shoulders and the sleeves are rolled at his wrists, and his footing is stable despite the heavy bandages at his knee. The only honest feature about the man is the dangerous looking knife that flashes back and forth with his sprint.

Despite everything noticed in a moment, the attacker is too far away and too quick for me to reach him as a human. However, with one glance at the young doctor, I know that my interference isn’t necessary. While I had been observing the attacking man, Kalen had ordered the sturdier of his young group to shield the bedbound patient behind him. Now several strides in front of that bed, Kalen stands with his hands fisted at his sides and his eyes dark with restrained anger. His doctor’s coat flares at his legs, and I’m briefly reminded of the common depictions of his grandfather in a battle-worn trench coat.

The fake soldier lunges with both hands gripping the hilt of his blade, aiming for Kalen’s seemingly exposed stomach. White flashes and Kalen parries the attack to the side with his forearm, promptly following through with his other hand to strike the man in the throat. The force lifts the attacker off his feet, and when the man’s hair flutters strangely, I recognize the wind magic swirling tightly around Kalen’s hands.

The ICU is strangely quiet with the madman’s screaming silenced, only the beeps of monitors and whispers of flowing oxygen continuing their unending rhythm. The students behind Kalen stare with gaping mouths, a couple of the females bothering to hide their surprise with lifted hands.

The quiet is broken when security bursts through the doors, a white-haired woman leading several paces ahead of her male counterparts. She slows until standing above the gasping fake-soldier and she places fisted hands at her hips. A pale eyebrow lifted, she stares accusingly at the young doctor.

Kalen adjusts his coat and comments, “He’ll live. And you took too long, SeeD Tsukihara.”

Her lips flick into a snarl, and when her partners come up behind her, she turns her anger to them and points at the discarded knife. The strange noise she makes is apparently taken as a question by her counterparts, and they shift awkwardly under her glare.

“He said he had a steel bar in his leg from a bad break,” the younger of the pair defends, rubbing the back of his neck. “He was bleeding and crying, and how were we supposed to know he was hiding a blade in his bandages?”

The SeeD groans loudly, and without using words, she begins to point out the things I had already identify as suspicious about the fake-soldier.

During that silent lecture, I cross the room despite Nao’s noise of uncertainty. My approach is first noticed by Kalen, although the security team isn’t much slower when the white-haired woman rests a hand on the weapon haltered at her hip. I lift my hands in a casual surrender.

“Dr. Almasy, I demand a full examination of your body before much more time is wasted.”

The female SeeD grunts in a questioning fashion, apparently the extent of her verbal skills.

I force myself to look away from Kalen and meet the eyes of the white-haired human who has yet to earn my full interest. “The knife is clearly coated in something, and Dr. Almasy was potentially cut. Without an immediate examination, we cannot be certain if he was poisoned.”

The woman eyes me warily, but she isn’t the one to make the final decision.

Kalen exhales as if exhausted and gestures toward the hallway. “There are private rooms down that way. Let’s get this over with.”

He takes the lead, his steps swift with purpose even as he calls over his shoulder with simple words of praise to his students for keeping “Mr. Doersen” safe. I feel a twinge of shame that I don’t recall the name of the patient I had been caring for, but I have my reasons to be distracted and I think she would forgive me after one glance at the young doctor.

The room is an ordinary one with an examination table, a counter with a sink to wash hands, shelves with common use items, and posters with years’ old medical information. The room’s best feature, however, is the door. I flip the sign to occupied before slipping inside and closing the door behind me, my eyes fully focused on Kalen when he leans back against the examination table and looks with interest at my current appearance.

“So, you’ve learned what pants are. That’s a shame.”

A grumble builds in my throat at his decision to joke in this moment. “Take off your coat and shirt before I rip them off your body.”

A dark eyebrow lifts in a cloying manner. “And who says dreams never come true?”

“Kalen, don’t test me—”

He hums as if considering the benefits of irritating me further, but thankfully, starts to remove his white coat and reveals a gaping hole at the armpit, stained with poison. “The knife didn’t touch me,” he states, a poor substitute for an apology.

“You should have side-stepped that attack instead of standing your ground like you did,” I scold while grabbing the coat and shoving it into a nearby hazards container.

“Is that so? I’ll consider it for the next time.”

I scoff while impatiently waiting for him to unbutton his shirt. “Don’t pretend. You would still make the same fool decision to protect your patient above yourself.”

Kalen doesn’t comment, only smiles while finishing with the twice-damned buttons. The removal of his collared shirt reveals a body that has seen more training and bruises since our last meeting, but I can’t afford to waste time on my selfish wants and desires. I gently grab his wrist to extend and twist his arm in all angles, looking for any stray slice or nick that could have been created by the poison-tainted blade.

“Like I said, the blade never touched me.”

Irrationally irritated by the statement, I drag my fingers down the underside of his arm, along the outside of his armpit, and down his ribs that are less noticeable than our first meeting. He breathes a shuddered breath and tries to pull away his arm, but I use that leverage to lean in close to the shorter man. I stare directly into his eyes with a silent question, one he answers with a slight narrowing of his eyes and a lift of his chin.

Our lips fit together with a casual ease that belies the desperation I have felt these last months, unending days filled with the anxious desire to know if our first and last kiss was truly something amazing or only an aftereffect of my unexpected freedom. The answer is overwhelmingly clear as his free hand claws into my hair, and my knees weaken when a finger strokes the back of my ear. My chest feels too tight, too hot from the simple press of lips, but I had bolder intentions than this. I lick his lower lip, and as if waiting for the suggestion, Kalen parts his lips with open invitation.

Blessed All-Creator, Kalen tastes like the moment just after the sun sets and a cool breeze flows with a promise of starry skies and the unique peace of night.

Unlike true peace, however, an intercom squeals and chirps before someone announces that Dr. Remington is needed in Examine Room 3. With the unfortunate reminder of the time and place, I retreat from the kiss to gaze into eyes of deep azure that flicker with the restrained power of a sorcerer.

“Do all GF’s know how to kiss or just you?”

No longer concerned, I allow myself a smile at his comment. “I don’t taste poison. You should be fine.”

An eyebrow arching with interest, Kalen asks, “You were kissing me… to taste for poison?”

“In part.”

“Is that what they are teaching their nurses in Bishop’s Cross these days?” At my startled look, Kalen hooks a finger at the lanyard that holds my ID card. “Ens Webber… I saw the name in Molly’s stack of candidates and thought to myself, ‘There is no way Endespithre would use such a cliché name in the human world.’ Even so, it was the one resume I bothered reading in full, enjoying the thought that it might be you.”

Questions flood my mind, all of them centering around the terrifying desire to know if I had been remembered, if I had been _wanted_ … but I can’t bring myself to ask any of them.

Kalen lifts his hand to tug on the shortened strands of my hair. “I didn’t recognize you at first glance, but your eyes… I’ll never forget your eyes.”

“You saw all of me and that is what you remember?”

His lips curl with a suggestive hint, but instead of speaking the undoubtably crude words, he retreats several inches to create unfortunate space between us. “For weeks, I worried that any human you came across would reveal that we haven’t changed much, and that you would be driven to repeat your crimes of the past, but instead…” Kalen tugs on my lanyard, harder than necessary. “For a Guardian Force who claims to have no healing ability, what in Hyne’s name led you to become a nurse?”

Expecting the question, I answer with practiced thought, “I have already seen the worst of humankind. For a change, I decided to witness what humans can be once they have decided to protect life, not destroy it. I wanted to see if you were unique or if all healers had your same determination.”

“And…?”

“It has been a fascinating experience, in truth. Humans have more motivations in their short lifespans than I once thought.”

Smug pride shines in his eyes. “I should have never doubted you.”

“Gilgamesh and Cabochon showed you what I am. You were right to question my future choices.”

“They showed me the past, but you showed me glimpses of who you wanted to be when given the choice,” Kalen argues. With a hand lifted to his head, he tugs on strands of mostly dark brown hair mixed with strands of worrisome white. “You gifted me a future in which I discovered the answer to my mother’s sickness… No, to our shared condition, and I had enough time to save us both. I owe you everything, and yet I doubted you….”

“And finally, you prove that you have some measure of sense.”

Kalen shows open exasperation at my comment. “I knew exactly what I was doing when I freed you. I never questioned my choice, only that I didn’t have more time to prepare you for the realities of the present world.”

My body burns at the unexpected knowledge that Kalen didn’t regret his decision to break my chains. I would have forgiven him that lingering doubt, a reasonable suspicion that he had reached the wrong conclusion in the heat of the moment. I would have desired him all the same, but with this new information, I fear that my want of this human can become something dangerously more.

“Endespithre…?”

I lean forward, needing to taste my name on his lips, but the world becomes cruel once again when the intercom squeals and demands for “Dr. Almasy, report to Emergency Room 1. Dr. Almasy, report to Emergency Room 1.”

His expression instantly serious, Kalen pushes me aside and rebuttons his shirt at the same moment someone starts pounding at the closed door. In three quick steps, he reaches the door and pulls it open to reveal a panicked-looking Nao, her breath short and her eyes pained. Before he can utter a word, the nurse attempts to explain the situation:

“A team of SeeDs… dragon fire, and… and _damn it_ , Kalen, it’s Mason.”

Kalen’s body and magic go still at the news, painfully so compared to the riled energy from mere moments ago. I almost reach out to him, to hold and protect him from the world, but my human isn’t one to surrender to weakness. Kalen releases his held breath and orders, “Endes--Ens, I want you with me,” and promptly moves into a careful jog down the hallway, never thinking that I would refuse him.

I follow Kalen and Nao toward the emergency room, but the doors are crowded by two large but young soldiers and a petite magic user, all three dressed in torn and singed uniforms belonging to cadet SeeD soldiers. The smallest SeeD is openly crying while the two others fail to hide their quieter tears. When Kalen attempts to slip past, the girl grabs his arm.

“Please, _please_ , save him,” the magic user begs. “It’s our fault… Instructor Kinneas warned us to look for civilians, that people could hide in closets and such instead of evacuating, but we didn’t… We thought he was giving us a stupid task, that he didn’t trust us to fight… There was a girl, a _little girl…!_ ”

Kalen places a hand over the one restraining him and squeezes gently where I would have knocked it aside. “Save the story for when Mason can properly hear it. He loves hearing about how heroic he looked, especially if the story comes from his beloved cadets.”

The trio of SeeD youngsters blink at the suggestion, and then awkwardly smile at the thought of their instructor enjoying some lavish attention. Kalen uses the moment to slip out of the magic user’s hold, and with a fisted hand, he shoves through the double doors into the emergency room. Nao and I follow close behind before the idiot SeeD cadets can block our entrance, too.

Kalen pauses briefly to stare at the unconscious body lying stiffly on a sterile table and encircled by SeeD paramedics and bustling nurses. The human male looks to be in his third decade of life, if I understand human age correctly. His wavy brown hair shows a copper sheen where it isn’t burnt black, and his body is built of lean muscles meant for speed instead of brute force. Of greater importance is how the right side of his body is bloody red and charcoal black from ugly burns, and worst of all, globes of angry reddish-orange glow near his knee and wrist.

This Mason, somehow kin of the Kinneas family, is an incredibly unlucky man to be the victim of two dragon fire spawns.

After his own quick examination, Kalen demands from Nao, “Contact Dr. Rhodes and prepare her for the extent of damage.”

“Dr. Rhodes…?” Nao repeats in a rough voice. It’s with that second uttering that I recognize the name of the renown reconstructive surgeon, a burn specialist who had joined Esthar Memorial in the recent years. “Kalen, amputation is protocol—”

“Amputation is required when living dragon fire is at risk of reaching internal organs. We’re not there yet,” Kalen declares in a firm voice.

Not waiting for Nao’s hushed reply that she understood, Kalen hurries to a nearby station to rub sanitizer over his hands and snap on gloves, all the while calling out questions to the paramedics. Yes, they had followed the updated procedure in the event of dragon fire, to place an immediate time stop on the patient and layer with a secondary stop spell. Eighteen minutes and counting had lapsed since the start of the time stop. No, they don’t know of any additional injures beyond the obvious.

Nurses hover close by, anxious to act but unable to perform normal procedures given the risk of disrupting the time stops. Instead, they fuss with ethers and remedies, as well as a tray full of morphine syringes, prepared for the exact moment when they can contribute.

Wearing a blue smock over his shirt, Kalen moves close to the patient’s right arm and stares down at the ruined flesh without touching. Somehow a tattoo survived relatively unharmed at his hand, a red ribbon twisting around his pointer finger and spreading into bold wings.

“Ens, am I wrong to assume that you’re an expert at time magic?”

I glance at the three paramedics and take note of the sweat building at their brows from the strain of holding the time stops to prevent the dragon fire spawns from devouring their patient. Bless the All-Creator, I’m once again dumbfounded by the ingenuity of humans in their constant quest for survival in this unfair world.

Even so, fire spawns are tenacious pseudo-lifeforms. Born of the flame of shadow dragons, fire spawns are equivalent to death curses in that, once they latch onto a body, they devour flesh and bone until anything left of the host is turned to ash. Unlike curses, however, they are immune to any status effect cleansing spell. Curative spells do little more than to provide fresh fuel for the spawns to feast upon…

Which leaves me at a loss of what Kalen thinks he can do for this man beyond removing the limbs and letting the trapped spawns burn out in a sealed container, destroyed to ash along with the leg and arm.

At my silence, Kalen asks with disbelief, “Am I wrong?”

“You aren’t,” I reply in defense of my abilities. “Tell me what you require, Dr. Almasy.”

His smile slight and fleeting, Kalen directs me toward the head of the patient. Before he can instruct further, the double doors snap open with the entrance of a middle-aged woman wearing a silk blouse and form-fitting skirt under her doctor’s coat. While her outfit seems out of place in the emergency room, Dr. Alice Rhodes is perfectly comfortable and steps directly to the center of the room, her crystalline blue eyes critical behind fashionable glasses.

With only a brief examination of the patient, the woman scowls at the ruined flesh inhabited by fire spawn. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Kalen, but that looks like living dragon fire to me.”

“Are you ever wrong, Dr. Rhodes?”

The senior doctor clicks her tongue at his response. “Don’t ‘Dr. Rhodes’ me. You know exactly what should be done here, and you’re more than competent to perform amputations without my guidance.”

In a softer tone, Kalen nods toward the patient. “Look again, Alice, and tell me that he isn’t a perfect candidate for the procedure I’ve shown you.”

Dr. Rhodes focuses her cold gaze on the unmoving man. “…It’s too risky.”

“He could keep his arm and leg.”

“You’ve only tested your theory on cadavers. What if you fail?”

Kalen shrugs, his shoulders stiff while attempting to appear unconcerned. “He would lose his limbs anyway.”

“Hyne’s hips… Well, is it true that he saved a little girl’s life?” At Kalen’s confused look, Dr. Rhodes crosses her arms over her chest and comments, “Those baby soldiers out there are making a lot of noise about this patient using his body to shield some child from a dragon. If it’s true… I would agree, _reluctantly,_ that we should do everything in our power to help him.”

Eyes glimmering with restrained magic, Kalen smiles at the suggested agreement to his plan. “Under your observation, I have no other option than to succeed.”

Dr. Rhodes scoffs but doesn’t argue. Instead, she directs the nurses into the adjoining room and provides a full list of instructions in preparation of treating severe burns. No one comments upon it, but it’s obvious that the doctor is clearing the room, either to prevent distraction or to protect the safety of the staff. Knowing everything I do about Kalen, I decide that the latter possibility feels more likely.

After a subtle nod from the woman, Kalen looks to the exhausted paramedics and me. “On the count of three, drop the existing time stops. Ens and I will immediately recast. Ens, use two separate spells, one to cover the left side of his body and head, and the other his right shoulder and arm. I will place a time stop on his right leg. Understood?” At everyone’s nod, the young doctor takes a breath and counts out, “One, two, _three--_ ”

The instant the paramedics release their spells, the patient chokes on a scream in the terrible second before Kalen and I place our own time stops. It’s eerily quiet after that reminder of what is at stake. Their job complete, the paramedics excuse themselves, almost tip-toeing as they leave in respect of that silence. And suddenly, there is only the three of us and a severely injured patient left in the normally chaotic emergency room.

Kalen takes a calming breath before looking to me. “Hold your time stop. I’m going to release mine just before casting Black Hole and, in theory, smother the dragon fire.”

I stare at the young doctor, unable to contain my shock. “Black Hole…The attack spell…?”

“A controlled, smaller version that should steal away oxygen from the fire and kill it. Curative magic has no effect, and ice or water elementals fail within inches of the living fire. In my research, nothing compares to using a variation of a black hole spell… Unless you know of some other option?”

His tone is both curious and hopeful, and I hate disappointing him. “I didn’t know there was a way to stop a fire spawn once it latched onto living flesh. Its only reason to exist is to devour until there is nothing left.”

“’Fire spawn’, huh?” he mutters, clearly wanting a chance to explore more details from my unique point of view, but he doesn’t with our time limited. “Well, it didn’t hurt to ask.”

Without anymore delay, Kalen whispers out his modified spell for Black Hole and creates a small piece of empty, swirling space in the palm of his hand. He releases his time stop over the patient’s leg to immediately press the dark magic against the pulsating fire below the knee. The metal table shakes and burnt flesh gains a worrisome layer of frost, even as the golden light burns brighter for a desperate second, seeking oxygen where this is none.

Starved, fire spawn contracts and becomes little more than a spark when it flickers and fails, blinking out of existence as if it wasn’t the danger that we all knew it to be.

Kalen cancels his spell with a shout of surprise at the easy defeat, frost growing exponentially without the heat of the fire spawn. Dr. Rhodes is suddenly there with a thermal blanket, the material already activated with her magic to ironically bring back warmth to the burnt flesh.

The pair of doctors stare at each other for a long moment, eyes wide before Kalen breathes a laugh. “It worked.”

“It extinguished the living fire,” she agrees, her voice pitched with a mix of adrenaline and uncertainty, “but the internal damage is still unquestionably extensive.”

“Then he’s very lucky to have the best reconstruction surgeon in modern history attending him.”

“Sweet talker,” Dr. Rhodes scolds before nodding to the second fire spawn. “Let’s see if this trick of yours is repeatable, shall we?”

When Kalen turns to me, his smile is one of a human defying the impossible, the same smile he showed when breaking my shackles: arrogant of his power, boldly pleased with his success, and relieved at saving another soul from pain… And I find myself inexplicably terrified of him.

“Ens, when I call upon Black Hole, release the time stop on his right side, but don’t release your final hold. Once I finish with his arm, I will hit him with the strongest sleep spell I control before turning him over to Alice and the nurses to treat his burns. I want absolute minimal exposure to pain, understood?”

I nod, unable to speak with a sudden swirl of distress building in the depth of my mind. I knew Kalen to be a powerful sorcerer before this, I knew him to be dangerous, but when did I forget to be afraid…?

Kalen doesn’t notice my unease in his moment of triumph. Instead, he places his focus into his controlled Black Hole. Like before, it comes too easy to the young doctor, and barely waiting me for to release my magic, he braces his hand over the patient’s glowing forearm. The fire spawn struggles and attempts to flee deeper into the man’s arm, but Kalen calls out a second Black Hole in his left hand and braces that at the patient’s elbow, giving the living flame no escape. And with little other drama, the fire spawn flickers and dies like its twin.

Breathing hard within a laugh, Kalen backs away as Dr. Rhodes places another thermal blanket over the patient’s arm. She stares at the young doctor, questions lingering in her gaze about the power contained within his very human body… or maybe I’m projecting my own worries onto her thoughtful expression.

“Oh Hyne, please tell me that I saved his trigger finger.”

Her frown deepening, Dr. Rhodes asks, “’Trigger finger’? Kalen, by any chance, do you know this patient?”

Kalen smirks at his senior, and with that serving as his apparent answer, he then turns to me. “All right, one last time. On the count of three, you release your spell, and I’ll place him under a heavy sleep. Ready, one, two, _three_ …”

I step back with the cancellation of my spell and watch as a visible wave of magic crashes over the injured man, practically drowning him in the sleep spell before he can register any of the pain inevitable with the extent of his burns. And amazingly, his body relaxes as it succumbs to the overwhelming magic, the patient appearing at peace compared to the tense and pained pose of his time frozen state from before.

Kalen helps to push the wheeled table into the next room, but he doesn’t leave, instead surrendering the care of his patient to Dr. Rhodes’s lead and attentive nurses. As the doors swing shut, he turns to face me, his smile only slightly tempered as he takes in my subdued stance.

“Ens, is everyth—”

“Why am I here?” I ask abruptly, and I hate the sound of panic in my voice.

Kalen loses his smile and his deep blue eyes narrow in confused thought. “What do you mean? Here in this room? Because—”

“No, no, that isn’t…” I press the palm of my hand against my forehand, trying to settle the thoughts in my head. “Your power… You warped dark magic to your will and used it for a purpose against its nature. I have never witnessed someone create magic beyond the rules the All-Creator intended, but now knowing you can, what else have I failed to recognize?”

“Ens… Where are you going with this, exactly?”

My tongue feels thick and heavy when I ask, “In that prison, when you touched my tether to humankind, did you implant a seed of magic that would draw me to you? To make me think I have freedom when… I’m already bound?”

“Wh, w _hat?_ _No_ , I would _never_ do that to you,” Kalen demands as he steps forward and pulls my hand from my face, but I avoid looking directly into his all-consuming eyes, knowing that I would be quickly lost. “Why are you saying any of this?”

“Your family rules this country of Esthar, but how could that be enough for one of your ability? And with me under your command, the entire world and its very future could be yours.”

“But I want _none_ of that. My grandparents may rule over Esthar, but it was to ensure lasting peace, as well as safety for their family, far above any need to exert their power. They taught us to appreciate life above anything else, and _that_ is where I focus my abilities.”

I shake my head, unable to accept his words. “In my experience, humans can’t endure the power of the gods. Your souls are too fragile, too vulnerable to corruption. How could I expect more of you?”

Kalen’s hold slowly relaxes until my arm slips from his hand and drops limply to my side. Nothing is said for long seconds, and I can easily hear the noises of the adjoining room as the nurses do everything in their power to prevent infection from ruining Kalen’s desperate act.

“This is my fault,” Kalen says in a rough voice I haven’t heard from the man before. If I had, I would remember how such an insignificant thing could boldly wrench my heart with strange, callous pain. “You aren’t here because of a spell or warped magic, but I’m still to blame. Back then, you confused the flood of emotions related to your release for… for something else that you directed at me, and I allowed it to happen. I knew better, but I made a mistake and harmed you in the process.”

Retreating several steps, Kalen removes his smock and gloves to toss them into a nearby bin. “Nao says you’ll be on the off-hour shifts, which means our interactions should be limited. I’ll keep my distance to avoid troubling you, but please trust one thing: you earned your freedom, Ens, by your own right and power. You _are_ free.”

His voice gaining a sharp edge, Kalen adds, “And I will kill anyone who threatens to bound you in chains a second time.”

At the unexpected words from the healer, I lift my head to catch the sight of Kalen’s back, strong and straight as he leaves the emergency room. His dark hair shifts with his stride and light brightens white strands in the moment before the doors swing shut behind him, the human never looking back.

Something wet and heated touches my cheek. Startled, I rub a heavy hand against my face to discover that the wetness isn’t stopping. I then realize that I’ve cried less in hundreds of years compared to the few times spent in Kalen’s presence.

Blessed All-Creator, what is the right path forward? You spoke to me once and showed me Kalen’s face, but I still don’t understand why. Was it to embrace him as I believe I want to? Was it to give him power above the humans so inferior to him? Was it to prevent him from becoming the worst version of himself, before his power can corrupt his kind heart?

Was it to remove this human who mimics the powers of the gods?

I’m startled from dark thoughts when a series of sharp knocks sound from the adjoining room and Nao’s face appears in the small window. While her words are muffled, the meaning is clear that there is plenty of work to be done for a nurse who is otherwise standing in an empty room. Desperate for anything that doesn’t involve Kalen, I welcome the opportunity help the injured solider and learn more about my place in this hospital. Whatever happens, I want to continue my mission to learn more about the hearts of humans…

Even if these lessons only seem to create more trouble and pain.

~ > < ~

_“Why am I here?” Hanging limp in his chains, Endespithre stared at one of his bound arms while casually rotating his wrist, curious at the feel of metal that interfered with his magic_

_“Do you forget your crimes?”_

_Endespithre glanced up at the rumbled, barely understandable voice. The bulky, grossly armored form of Aleksandr stood with an awkward hunch within the cavern turned prison. Even in his smaller, human-like form, the spirit was massive and not meant for the confines of walls or underground realms. Next to the giant hovered Cabochon, the furry beast glowing in the dim light and his long ears pulled back with the uncertainty of young spirits. Farther back, Gilgamesh leaned against a wall, trying and failing to look casual against the spikes of crystals. Endespithre wasn’t certain which Gilgamesh was before him, the spirit being a world-walker compared to Endespithre’s time walks, but while always the buffoon, he was terribly powerful and not one to underestimate._

_“Endespithre, have you forgotten—”_

_“You mean my decision to punish the humans for murdering our kind for the gain of temporary power? My choice to remove two kingdoms from history before they can destroy everything around them? Are those the crimes to which you are referring?”_

_Twin white light flashed within the helmet of Aleksandr. “You have been judged and sentenced for the crime of harming the All-Creator’s blessed creations, those whom we were charged to protect and cherish.”_

_Still relaxed in his chains, Endespithre smiled bitterly. “Indeed, which begs the question: why am I here? I acted knowing the consequences of my choice. I knew the All-Creator would be enraged, and in His anger, would have my existence removed for eternity.”_

_A pitying chuckle sounded from Gilgamesh. “Oh, you angered Him quite beautifully, but Her disappointment in you far outweighed any judgment He wished to cast upon you.”_

_Endespithre shivered at the words, some of his eyes returning to the shackles holding him in place as fear started to creep into his thoughts. “No, I was to be executed. I saw no other path.”_

_“Which forced Her to create one,” Gilgamesh stated with the intone of something dire._

_“No…”_

_Aleksandr pointed a gauntlet-covered hand at the bound spirit. “The All-Creator charged us to bind you to this place where you will remember once again your place in this world that She formed from nothingness. She will visit upon you in your dreams to give you guidance, for She does believe you belong in this world and must return.” The deep voice echoed within cavern, the ring of holy justice sparking an additional glow to the crystals. “Until then, humans will be granted the ability to discover this place and use your powers to fulfill the most honorable of heart wishes, so you may see the goodness in humankind. And thusly it will repeat until you learn to love the All-Creator’s cherished ones once again.”_

_Devasted, Endespithre turned his eyes to the youngest spirit. “Cabochon… These chains smell of your magic. Knowing me as you do, knowing why I betrayed humans, have you resolved to bind me here for all time?”_

_The furry creature shook its head and chittered his faith in the All-Creator, that She knew the best path for Endespithre to rediscover his forgotten heart. He also pledged his belief in Endespithre, and that the elder spirit’s kindness would free him in due time._

_Endespithre heard little of the noise and sagged in his chains. “Your judgment has been given. Leave me be.”_

_Aleksandr vanished at the demand, clearly longing for space unrestricted by stone and crystal._

_Cabochon lingered longer, but when red eyes refused to look in his direction, the young spirit whined out his apologies before disappearing with his tail between his legs._

_Gilgamesh pushed up from the cavern wall and walked gingerly toward his brethren. “You know where you went wrong with this mess, right?”_

_Endespithre scowled at the casual question._

_“You don’t know how to choose a good human. They come to you, and you believe their lies and pleas. Meanwhile, I have them_ prove _why they are deserving of my assistance, and in the most spectacular ways possible. Most times I won’t even tell them they are being tested.” With a broad show of teeth, Gilgamesh smiled and declared while slowly disappearing, “Next time, you chose the human, Spidey. Don’t let them choose you.”_

_Left alone to his prison, Endespithre lifted his head to stare up at the oppressive ceiling of stone, unable to see anything further than the present time._

* * *

 

[Kalen]

I’m not heartbroken.

If anything, I’m disappointed in myself for not recognizing the truth of the situation. I rescued Endespithre from a fate worse than death, and I arrogantly assumed the guardian force could have feelings toward me for a reason beyond the obvious, beyond desperate gratitude. And there is no excuse. Given my profession, I have brought numerous people back from the brink of death, and many have tried to show their appreciation in overt ways that I have easily brushed aside without second thought. I never _wanted_ more than their continued lives…

Then Endespithre happened. From the first moment I set eyes on him, I felt little more than pure _want_. I wanted his devastating power, I wanted his inhuman body, I wanted his intense gaze focused on me… I thought I wanted his freedom, but now I’m not so certain. Seeing him in the ICU today, once I recognized his human guise, my first thought was that Endespithre had returned to me and that he was finally mine. My second thought was that I shouldn’t have wanted that.

I’m not heartbroken that Endespithre came to his senses. I’m just a fucking ass.

“Dear Hyne, Kalen?”

I stop short, not even realizing I had walked into the waiting room let alone halfway across the hospital in my distracted thoughts. Blinking, I stare at the unexpected sight of Aunt Selphie standing with her hands clutching tight onto her eldest son’s arm, and they are quite the pair. In her fifties, Aunt Selphie still enjoys her bright colors and wears a yellow jacket over a white sun dress, finishing the outfit with a cloche hat displaying a fat sunflower. Meanwhile Tristen, a mix of his parents with his violet eyes and dirty blonde hair, stands stiffly in his dark navy SeeD uniform that has seen its fair share of battlefields despite his rank of Vice Commander.

And with their presence, I remember that there are more important things happening than my non-existent love life.

“Aunt Selphie, how in the world did you get here so quickly?” Before she can answer, I glance at Tristen’s face and take note of the greenish hue of the normally tanned skin. “Never mind, I see that you were piloting. Tristen, if you need a bucket, please admit it now instead of making a mess.”

Aunt Selphie smiles despite a quite thunderous scowl from her son. “Don’t worry about him: he already used the sick-bag on the Rag IV to its full capacity. But more importantly, Kalen, I don’t know if you would know anything, but Mason—”

“He’s here,” I say with a calming smile. “The idiot saved a child from a shadow dragon and received severe burns for his trouble, but I’ve seen worse. Dr. Rhodes is the best in her field, and she’ll do everything she can to minimize the damage.”

Aunt Selphie sighs deeply at the information and clutches onto Tristen’s arm even harder. “That damned boy, I thought he was taking it easier by becoming a SeeD Instructor. He’s not supposed to be risking his life to save babies like that anymore.”

Tristen rests a hand over his mother’s tight grasp. “You would have scolded Mason if he hadn’t been there.”

“Damn right I would have, but that’s besides the point. What is he doing getting hurt while I’m still alive to worry about him, huh? He’d better remember this when Mother’s Day comes around again.”

“Mom…”

I smile at the pair, relieved that I didn’t have to tell them that Mason lost his arm and leg today, relieved that I was here and able to do something for my beloved family. The sacrifices I’ve made to become a doctor seem insignificant in comparison, and even though I would have done everything again for the sake of my mother, it’s nice to know I’ve gained so much more than I planned.

“Well, nothing more to do about that except to wait,” Aunt Selphie says with a roll of her shoulders and a lift of her chin. “Now, Kalen dear, tell me who broke your heart and where to find the bastard so I can kick him in the nuts.”

Tristen groans out a “ _Mom_ ” while I stare in disbelief.

“Oh please, after four boys and over thirty years of marriage, I know the look of a man who is dealing with relationship troubles. And you,” she says with a circling finger directed at my face, “have that look in spades.”

Regaining my sense, I breathe a laugh at her keen eye, not that I would admit anything to the romance-hungry woman. “Aunt Selphie, I’m on hour eleven of a fourteen-hour shift, and I’m just now heading to break after helping with Mason’s treatment. I’m too spent to deal with figuring out lunch, let alone something resembling a love life.”

Aunt Selphie eyes me with overt suspicion. “No, there’s clearly something else happening here.”

While I debate another excuse, Tristen clears his throat and says, “I didn’t want to mention anything, but I heard over the SeeD wires that Headmaster Almasy is headed this way because of an anti-sorceress attack that happened earlier. I assume Kalen was in the middle of that mess for Isan to come running like that.”

Aunt Selphie gasps, “Was it those FART bastards again? Did they dare to hurt you, Kalen?”

Tristen chuckles at her intentional mistake while I’m left to minimize the potential of Aunt Selphie going overboard with her protectiveness. “It was only a single member of GAS, not a group of them; and no, the only damage he managed was a hole in my coat. I had him on the ground before he did anything noteworthy.”

Not trusting my words, the brunette steps forward to grab my face in her hands and pushes my head every which way in search of an injury. “Moh, you and your entire family always leave out the important details. That crazy terrorist group has an unhealthy, albeit hopeless obsession with killing anyone with the Almasy name. Why didn’t you tell me that you had been attacked?”

“Because it’s already been handled, and you have more important things to worry about with Mason.” I carefully pull aside her hands so that I can look at Tristen. “How long ago was it that they said Dad was headed this way?”

“It was before we heard about Mason, maybe an hour ago?”

I curse under my breath, but loud enough for Aunt Selphie to give me a rebuking look. “I need to hurry to the security office before my dad does something I’ll later regret. SeeD Tsukihara still doesn’t forgive me for the last time he visited and completely redesigned her camera system.”

“Was he wrong?” Aunt Selphie asks with a sly smile.

I only smile in return, knowing that I have an unfair bias toward my father and his overdone paranoia that, according to others, didn’t exist until my grandmother was almost assassinated. “Go to the front desk and check in so that they know you’re here for any updates. I imagine Dr. Rhodes will be around soon to answer your questions.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Come see Mason with us as soon as you can.” Aunt Selphie grabs me for hug and pulls me down to whisper in my ear, “For the record, you might be a better liar than Squall, but I still know something is up.”

I lean back with a short laugh, and without indulging Aunt Selphie, I give Tristen a quick hug before I run off in the direction of the security office located in the middle of the hospital. If my father had been alerted an hour ago, he should have arrived already, likely when I was in the emergency room and unreachable. Unable to sit and wait, he would have turned his focus to the security breach that led to the attack, and I can only imagine SeeD Tsukihara’s fury about now.

But none of that is the true reason for my urgency. No, there is far more to be worried about than a grumpy security staff.

When I round the corner to the security office, I stop short and stare at the sight of three uniformed staff doing pushups in the middle of the hallway as my father watches with arms crossed over his chest. In his late thirties, Isan Almasy is equal parts of his parents with both his physical features and his mannerisms, but he unfortunately didn’t inherit the Loire ability to look ageless. Or maybe the stress of my mother’s illness aged him further than his bloodline could prevent. While no longer dark in color, there are still noticeable bags to his eyes. Gray hairs color his temples above his ears, right where he would pull his hair in frustration. And his mouth settles far too easily into a scowl compared to his quirked smiles of the past.

But it isn’t the sight of my father that had brought me up short. No, it’s the presence of my mother leaning against the wall next to him, dressed in a SeeD uniform with his long white hair held back in a tight braid. Compared to his husband, Seveyn Almasy recovered almost fully from the ordeal of his illness, looking much like the photos of their first years together. There are the subtle signs of age, but his orchid-purple eyes are bright and his smile is gentle with his love for the moment, and in a way, his subtle wrinkles only highlight his joy. And to think, there was a time when I thought all of that was lost for good.

Noticing me, my mother turns and his smile shines in what Aunt Selphie says is an expression saved for his impossible son. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it certainly feels that way whenever I see that smile.

“Kalen,” Mom says as he steps directly to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders in a strong hug.

I feel his healing magic the moment he touches me, and I almost laugh at his need to make certain I’m okay. “Mom, I promise that he never touched me. If he was honestly in GAS, their recruiting practices have gotten desperate.”

My mother hums while leaning back. “We need to talk about that.”

Before I can question the cryptic comment, a heavy hand slaps my shoulder and I look up into green eyes softened with shades of gray. My father smiles with the same smug look of his father, pride visible in the curl of lips. I remember seeing that same expression when I told him that I had figured out a treatment for Mom’s illness, as if he never held a doubt.

“I heard you handled the attacker before anyone else could blink,” Dad relays in a bragging tone. “When you told me a year ago that you wanted to return to basic SeeD training, I wasn’t certain if it was the best option for you, but apparently I was wrong.”

I laugh at his memory of the past. “Please, you were ecstatic that I was feeling as paranoid as you were about needing more strength to protect myself.”

“Perhaps,” he admits with a smile. “Of course, I would feel better if you would allow a 24/7 personal security team to follow you…”

“And I respectfully refuse. I don’t want to imagine the turmoil it would cause with the nurses and patients, forget my own irritation.”

My father sighs at the repeated rejection of his suggestion, but then as if hearing something strange, he looks to the side and stares into the distance. I watch him carefully, curious if his first act will be to contain a threat or something more violent, but my father does nothing more than to squint with confusion at whatever he senses.

“Kalen, we need to talk,” Mom repeats his earlier comment, this time with a strong hint of required privacy.

“Of course. My office is down the hall, within clear view of the security office as Dad demanded.”

My mother quirks a smile at my small surrenders to Dad’s paranoia, but he notably never says anything against the variety of requests. I imagine both of them would hide me in a SeeD Garden if they could, but neither would keep me from achieving my dreams. That isn’t the Almasy way.

I guide my parents to the closet-sized office reserved for my use, much to the relief of the security staff who were still engaged in push-ups. My father, however, continues to drag his feet as he stubbornly tries to identify the source of energy that is teasing his senses. The desk and pair of available chairs in my office are a mess of papers, journals, and various textbooks, but we didn’t come in here for comfort. Once pulling my father inside the last few inches, I close the door and lean against the solid support.

“So, when were you going to tell me that Mom was going on his first mission in years?”

While my mother smiles in his cautious way, Dad straightens and crosses his arms over his chest. “After you tell us everything about that attack earlier. None of the security staff was there to witness the event for themselves.”

“Even for the Galbadians, it wasn’t much of an attack. It was a single man dressed as an Estharian SeeD. He had hidden a knife in his bandages, and with his first opportunity, he ran into the ICU to attack me. If he had any training, I saw nothing of it: it took a single strike to incapacitate him.”

My father hums at my retelling. “Then you agree that he seemed poorly prepared.”

“The worst I’ve seen. Is their leadership in turmoil again?”

“Not according to our intel. Instead, it appears those in command are focused on bigger plans and have allowed the lower ranks to act however they see fit.”

I frown at the suggestion of the Galbadians placing their attention on a larger goal instead of their general terrorism toward anyone pro-sorceress. “The last time they did that, Grandmom was nearly killed.”

“Anyone involved with those plans are dead,” Dad says with certainty toward Granddad’s ability to clean house, “but that leaves plenty of other opportunities to cause a large amount of damage.”

“And that’s why you’re taking Mom on a mission, to infiltrate a base and steal their information.”

“Seveyn is still one of the best hackers out there, and if there is any inconvenient information about the family, we can’t have anyone else putting eyes on it.” Dad then smirks and glances at my mother. “And he has made some serious threats to my safety if I kept him from this particular mission.”

My mother’s smile strengthens at the comments, and without denying anything, Mom says, “It has been several months since you developed a cure, and I’ve been training with your father ever since. I’ve been a burden long enough.”

“It’s a treatment plan, not a cure, Mom, but I… I understand wanting to make a difference. Just stay safe out there, okay?”

Dad scoffs out an amused laugh. “As if anyone in this family has room to talk about playing it safe.” When I offer a noncommittal shrug, my father becomes abruptly serious and steps forward to crowd me against the door. “Now, enough of our news. Tell me why you’re trying to obstruct me from whatever unknown and potentially dangerous guardian force is lurking in this hospital.”

I wince at the direct question, not that I truly thought I could delay my father for long. Isan Almasy was never a fool, even though he can be easily distracted by his husband’s health and happiness. Unfortunate for him, however, he didn’t raise a fool either. Instead of failing for his intimidation routine, I close my eyes for the length of a deep breath and then meet the hard glare of my father.

“Let me remind you, this hospital is neutral territory,” I say in a rehearsed message, one I’ve told my father four times and my grandfather…. Hyne, I’ve lost count. “There are people here who cannot defend themselves nor have the ability to flee if anything happens within these walls. I will not let you create a battlefield out of a place meant for healing.”

His lips briefly pull back into a snarl, the Headmaster not one accustomed to being refused, but when a hand rests on his shoulder, his expression drops into an annoyed… well, pout.

“Your father knows all of that,” Mom says soothingly, even as his hand tightens on Dad’s shoulder, “but if I understand the situation, couldn’t your patients already be in danger with a rogue GF nearby?”

I hold back a laugh, thinking about this particular GF dressed in baby blue scrubs and convincing little old ladies to take their medicine. “He’s not a danger, as long as he isn’t provoked.”

Instead of relieving any worry, my words cause Dad to frown with deep consideration of the situation. “You know the identity and mindset of this GF, an abnormally powerful one, and you have an immediate desire to protect ‘him’ from me… Kalen, don’t tell me that this GF is that kingdom-destroyer of yours.”

Mom inhales with concern, but I won’t let them lead this conversation in the wrong direction. “Just to clarify, are you talking about Endespithre, the guardian spirit that saved Mom’s life? Because he would deserve more courtesy than you treating him like some rogue demon.”

His green eyes hard with flinty gray, my father lifts chin with bolstered certainty at my absent denial. “You did the research with Azura and discovered the two kingdoms forgotten by history because of a mythical spider demon that invoked a death curse upon all of the inhabitants.”

“Technically part-spider and part-dragon, and he only acted in retaliation to hundreds of near-immortal GF’s being drained into nonexistence, as I’ve explained to you many times over.”

“Men, women, and _children_ were murdered without discrimination, only that they were human!”

“He was blinded by rage and tainted power. He didn’t know—"

“Enough, both of you,” Mom declares while stepping between us, knowing from prior experience where this discussion leads. “Isan, I’ve told you before to stop provoking Kalen on this topic. You know it sits close to his heart, and I won’t have you attacking him over it.”

Dad makes a noise of argument, but Mom shuts him down with a harsh glare. I, however, don’t dare take joy in his defeat since I know my mother doesn’t take sides in arguments. He wants peace, and that means anyone involve with upsetting that peace must be held accountable.

True to form, Mom turns to me with those reddish-purple eyes that burn with suppressed magic. “Kalen, tell us the truth: is this dangerous GF hiding here? In a hospital where there are many innocent and vulnerable people, as you so kindly reminded your father?”

I cringe at my words being used against me. “He is here, but I need you to understand something. When I parted ways with Endespithre, I challenged him to look for the better in humans, to give us another chance. Incredibly, he has done that in ways I never imagined possible. And so, when I say that he isn’t hiding but trying to make amends, I need you to believe me when I swear that he isn’t a danger to anyone here.”

With visible reluctance, Mom relaxes his shoulders and exhales a long breath. “If he truly wishes to atone for the lives he stole…”

“I think you would be impressed by his choices in the last year,” I say to the man who still holds himself responsible for the death of many innocents, even though he himself never had conscious involvement in the orders made with his voice and body.

Mom nods slightly in acceptance to my words, but my father isn’t as easily moved. Stepping close to my mother’s side, Dad demands, “I want to meet this GF of yours and judge its motivations for myself.”

My first instinct is to refuse, but I know that I can’t protect Endespithre forever. Even so, my father is an overwhelming presence and he may cause irreparable damage to the spirit who fears any human who has the power to force their will over his own. If I can control their meeting, somehow soften the interaction…

“Let me bring him to you,” I begrudgingly offer. “He only gained his freedom a year ago. For you to appear without warning, he could feel threatened and may do something out of fear that wouldn’t reflect well on him. Worse, something that he would later regret.”

Dad snorts at my words. “And you say that this GF isn’t a danger to anyone here?”

“Isan, I said enough,” Mom scolds sharply, saving me the effort. “Kalen, bring your Endespithre here. Maybe in person, we can better understand why you’re insistent to defend him.”

I nod, my thoughts scattered as I try figure out how to convince the wary guardian force to extend his limited trust to my parents. I turn to open the door, but I’m stopped by my mother’s voice.

“Wait, you forgot something.”

Confused, I look over my shoulder and watch as Mom grabs my spare doctor’s coat from a hook on the wall. He helps me to put it on, and with heavy tugs on the lapels, Mom flashes his bright and loving smile that he seems to save for the oddest moments.

“There you go. Now you look proper again.”

Knowing of his history, knowing how much a simple white coat once terrified him, it means everything that my mother now sees the coat as a symbol of care and healing. I lean over to place a kiss at his cheek, and with a whispered “Thank you,” I leave my crowded office in search of Endespithre.

In a hospital of this size, it would normally be a challenge to locate any single person, especially a mobile one, but I know where I last left Ens and I also noticed how Alice observed his control of time magic with an eager eye. My steps hurried, I walk in the direction of the operation room that Alice favors, which luckily has an adjoined viewing room that will allow me to look inside without disturbing the care being given to Mason.

My hand pressed on the door, I take a breath to calm my thoughts before being faced with Mason’s injuries once again. A decade older than me, the third son of the Kinneas line fits somewhere between annoying older brother and indulgent uncle in my life. Tristen took the most after his father with a love of firearms and forever searching for that perfect shot. Dirk is the strategist of the group, and while he handles himself just fine with a sniper rifle, he prefers his seat in the war room with a cup of black coffee in easy reach. Casey, the youngest, is a slim second to Tristen in skill, although most of us believe that is only because he worships his oldest brother and can’t bring himself to surpass the SeeD Vice Commander.

Mason is the daredevil of the brothers, a habit born of having two brothers several years older than him and a baby brother another few years younger. It was nothing intentional, but Aunt Selphie and Uncle Irvine would often gloss over Mason given the successes of Tristen and Dirk, and that followed by their tendency to dote upon Casey for being their last child. Mason joined the White SeeDs soon after graduating Balamb Garden, and within their ranks, created something of a suicide squad. Aunt Selphie was heartbroken at the risks he took, but she never missed a chance to tell anyone about his latest successful mission. That said, she cried in relief for nearly an hour when he announced during her fiftieth birthday party that he was done being an idiot and had accepted a position as an instructor in Esthar Garden.

For Mason to almost lose his life and limbs in a basic training mission is a strange kind of irony for the reformed loose cannon.

I shake my head to scatter unhelpful thoughts, and with one hand fisted at the door handle, I quickly scan my badge at the keypad and push my way inside. After a set of stairs, I walk into the narrow observation room that is little more than carpet and windows, and I look out over the operating room. Blue is everywhere with the handful of nurses and single doctor wearing mandated operating room attire, every stitch of clothing and strand of hair covered to prevent accidental infection.

But even with the shared attire, it’s easy enough to identify Endespithre within the group, the tall spirit close to Alice as he performs speed-up spells at her demand.

I lose myself watching the methodic process of healing layers of muscle and skin, Alice forced to go deeper than normal given the dragon fire that had latched onto bone. There are also patches of missing skin from Mason’s left side and thigh, donor sites of grafts used to fully close areas where the existing flesh had been burned too severely to heal on its own. The speed-up spells help the grafts to fix into place between healing spells, preventing unwanted separation and rejection of the grafts. It’s a tedious and delicate process, and few other than Dr. Alice Rhodes can make a man whole again after he had dared to face a dragon.

The soft click of a closing door reaches my ears, and while I hadn’t heard the keypad being manipulated or even the door being opened, I sigh and say resignedly, “Only hospital staff is supposed to be allowed in here.”

“No one was concerned with stopping me.”

I bite back a comment that very few would say “no” to the Headmaster of Esthar Garden and son of the Estharian President, and certainly not within the walls of the hospital built by Laguna Loire. “I wanted you to wait to avoid upsetting Endespithre at the wrong moment. Was that too much to ask?”

To his credit, Dad doesn’t step fully into the windowed area, but instead straddles the top step and leans against a bent arm at the edge of the first window. “Your kingdom-destroyer… Is it playing doctor in there?”

“Not a doctor, but a nurse. Don’t ask me how he managed it, but he’s a trained and licensed. Endespithre can’t use healing magic like some other guardian forces, but that hasn’t stopped him from wanting to see our world through the eyes of a healer.”

Dad hums softly in thought, his gaze focused on the procedure that continues without interruption. Inevitably his eyebrows furrow in confused recognition at the body lying on the operating table. “That tattoo…” he says, referring to a red string of Fate tied around Mason’s trigger finger. “Hyne above, it can’t be—”

“Careful, Dad, or you might lose that control over your aura. Don’t distract Endespithre now, not when he’s helping to save Mason’s arm and leg.”

With steel-like willpower, my father contains his chaotic energy in a way I have yet to master, not that I have any interest in hunting wild and dangerous guardian forces. “What happened?”

“Some SeeD training exercise that went wrong. From the sound of it, they didn’t properly evacuate a town and a child almost became lunch for a shadow dragon. Mason stepped in the way.”

“Sounds like his M.O., the self-sacrificing bastard. Aunt Selphie is going to rip him apart when she gets here.”

“You underestimate her ability to push a plane beyond its operating limits,” I comment while still watching Endespithre work. “Tristen is here, too, assumedly to keep her from reopening any of Mason’s wounds.”

Dad huffs, likely placing odds on Aunt Selphie above any of her sons. “That’s family down there, Kay. Tell me again why I should trust this GF of yours? Last I heard, the kingdom-destroyer didn’t care much for humans.

Again with the unfair moniker. Again with trying to convince me that I’m wrong to trust Endespithre. “If you won’t trust him, will you trust me instead?”

Retreating down a step, Dad faces me directly with a faintly wounded expression. “That’s foul play.”

“I don’t see how. Grandmom convinced the world to trust and follow the Sorceress Knight when Granddad aided in the Lunar Cry. Then you did the same within Esthar Garden, asking SeeD soldiers to believe in Mom despite Sorcerer Ashur’s crimes. How is any of that different from me wanting you to understand that Endespithre isn’t a threat, not anymore.”

A growl building in his throat, Dad complains, “You’re too much like your grandmother, manipulating others with inconvenient logic.”

I shrug at the common protest.

“…Fine, I will trust you in this, but the moment that spider—”

“He won’t,” I interrupt.

Defeated, Dad sighs out and places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I trust you, Kalen, but be careful. And I don’t just mean the spider, but with everything your mother and I mentioned. If anything happens while we’re on this mission, let your grandparents know immediately. Understood?”

“Of course.” I join my father out of the view of the glass to give him a hard hug. “Be careful yourself, and don’t let anything happen to Mom.”

“Never,” Dad promises with a certain roughness to his voice. He pats my back with a fisted hand before separating from the hug. “Keep an eye on Mason for me, and tell him that he owes me a beer for making me worry.” At my nod, Dad adds, “Seveyn and I will look for Aunt Selphie on the way out and let her know that Mason is in good hands.”

Surprised, I thank my father as he trails down the stairs and exit into the hallway. With no need to follow, I return to watch the continuing surgery and discover bright red eyes lifted in my direction. It’s impossible to guess how much Endespithre saw, but it says enough that he hasn’t deserted his patient in escape of my father. With the glass between us, I can only raise a hand in an awkward wave of thanks and apology. His eyes narrow in an unreadable expression behind his mask, but then Alice makes some command, and Endespithre returns immediately to his work.

As the burn of his candy-apple-red gaze fades from my skin, I silently remind myself yet again that I’m not broken hearted. I can’t be, not when I didn’t know I was falling in love in the first place.

~ > < ~

_Leaning forward against a wooden fence, Kalen watched as pair of chocobo scratched and pecked at the dusty ground of their pen. The sixteen-year-old stood with his black graduation robes open and fluttering in a faint breeze, an incongruent sight in the rural setting of stables and farm animals. His graduation cap had already been stolen and half-demolished by the goat Casey had named “The Incinerator”, not that Kalen showed any concern for what others would have considered a keepsake._

_“You know, this party is technically for you.”_

_Kalen rested his chin on his arms folded on top of the fence post. “Aunt Selphie loves any excuse for a party. It’s not my fault that I’m not interested in celebrating.”_

_Azura strolled up next to the younger teen and hooked her arm around his bent elbow. “You just graduated high school, got accepted into the best pre-med college in Esthar, and earned enough early credits to get into medical school years faster than the usual student. What about any of that doesn’t deserve celebrating?”_

_Kalen leaned his head against Azura’s shoulder, saying nothing._

_“Oh Kalen, I know you’re feeling impatient, that you want to save Veyn as soon as possible. If we’re lucky, someone will figure out an answer long before you do. If not, well, Veyn is a stubborn soul and he’ll fight this thing until you gain whatever knowledge you need to save him. He’ll give you all of the time you need.”_

_“Hn, I want to believe that, too…”_

_“Then why are you out here, moping like an idiot instead of being with your family?”_

_“I don’t know, it’s just…” Staring forward, Kalen complained, “I feel like a two-headed chocobo when I’m in there.”_

_Azura failed at stifling her laugh at the analogy. “Are you suggesting that you have twice the brain-power as the rest of us?”_

_“You know that’s not what I mean. It’s like they know I can still run and jump and do other chocobo things, but I’m still weird and confusing to them, and they don’t know what to do or say around me. Especially on days like today.”_

_With a hum of understanding, Azura placed a hand on Kalen’s head and fingered the white strands of hair within dark chestnut. “The thing is, you_ are _different to the rest of the family. You could have been an amazing mercenary with your magic support skills, but you went above and beyond that to become a doctor who will save lives instead of taking them. If you ask me, I think all of them are jealous of the path you’ve taken.”_

_Kalen scoffed at the line he had heard several times before._

_“All right, then let me ask this: is this about how the family looks at you, or one particular set of gorgeous violet eyes?”_

_Shifting enough to glare at Azura, Kalen grumbled, “I don’t know why I tell you anything.”_

_Full lips slid into a wide smirk at the admission. “Because you love me and respect my greater wisdom.”_

_“One of those things might be true,” Kalen muttered irritably._

_“Well, that’s just mean,” Azura countered as she rested her chin on top of the younger teen’s head. “Kalen, sweet Kalen, it’s not your fault that Mason is handsome in both the physical sense of the word and with how he exudes that annoyingly seductive aura of danger and… and bad boy-iness.”_

_Kalen couldn’t stop a bark of a laughter. “Wow, and you want to be a writer?”_

_“Give me break, baby nephew! And you know exactly what I’m talking about, Mr. Always Puts His Heart on the Wrong Man.”_

_Reluctantly dissolving into giggles, Kalen wrapped an arm around the brunette’s waist. “Seriously, stick with journalism and leave the creative writing to Great Granddad.”_

_“Well, I’m not wrong. Your heart has a terrible sense of direction. Mason isn’t even into guys, at least the last I heard he wasn’t, and let’s not forget the whole death wish part of his personality. No, while I love Kinneas Brother #3, he isn’t the right guy for you.”_

_“And exactly who is the right guy in your great wisdom?”_

_“Someone who respects life as much as you do,” Azura answered without hesitation. “Someone who would recognize how unique you are, and instead of being afraid or intimidated, someone who would help you to reach for every ridiculous goal that pops into that crazy brain of yours. And most importantly, someone who will remind you to love yourself as much as you love those around you.”_

_Kalen’s smile twisted into something whimsical at the description. “Why does it feel like you’re telling me to find someone like Granddad?”_

_“Eww…. Bu~ut, now that you mention it, everyone does say that you’re a bit too much like Mom…”_

_Kalen looked up in time to see the waggling eyebrow of his young aunt, and unable to resist any longer, he allowed himself to laugh at Azura’s attempts to cheer him. “Okay, okay, I get the hint: I’m being moody and difficult, and I should just go inside and enjoy the party before Aunt Selphie makes a fuss.”_

_“That’s a good boy,” Azura said with a heavy tug of his arm, forcing him to step away from the support of the fence. “Although for the record, I love you even when you’re being sulky and annoying.”_

_“Love you, too, Auntie Azura.”_

_“And don’t you forget it.”_

* * *

 

[Azura]

“Ketchup, soy sauce, jar of relish…” I list off while staring into the depths of the basically empty fridge. “Seriously, how is your cousin Kalen taller than me when he doesn’t have anything good to eat?”

A quiet whine sounds next to my ear as Talia shifts in her sleep, limp against my shoulder. The seven-month-old has been growing like a weed, a chubby adorable weed, and it’s hard to believe how much I love this little stranger. Talia doesn’t even do anything to deserve that love, just cries for food, cries when her diapers are a mess, and cries for no particular reason beyond keeping Jael and me from sleep… And somehow, when I look at her cherub face, her creamy brown skin, and dark green eyes, I know I have no option except to love her.

Talia Selphie Almasy-Moore, the youngest Almasy terrorist to-date and hopefully far from the last.

“I know, baby girl, I’m embarrassed for Kalen, too. We need to find him a good wifey as soon as possible. If nothing else, someone to make this place at least _look_ like people live here. This is just sad,” I say while turning to look at the single bedroom apartment.

A couple of stools are placed next to the kitchen island, substituting for the need of a table. In the living area, there is a black leather couch that looks as new as the day it was purchased three years ago. In the bedroom, I know from experience that there is a single boring bed with a cheap headboard and at least three piles of medical journals towering next to the mattress. A boring nightstand sits next to the bed, an obvious hiding spot for his dildos and other toys. The only decoration in the apartment are framed photos of our expansive family mounted onto the walls of the living room, and I’m pleased to see the recent photos of Talia have already found their place within the mix.

Still, this place is so fucking sad.

Faint beeps and a click sound as the front door opens, and I instinctively hold Talia closer to my chest even though only a select number of people should be able to open the door guarded by Berkeley’s latest and greatest security system. Isan swears to his best friend’s ability, but no form of security is foolproof.

Kalen steps inside, the young man looking nothing like the person he was only a year ago. While his scrubs are loose, it’s easy enough to notice the results of his renewed training with Isan and Jael: firm shoulders from heavy exercise, a stiff confidence to his spine, and a certain leanness to his torso made for twisting and dodging. Aside from losing the lanky and hungry look of old, his face is the most transformed with no bags under his eyes and his hair styled with a hint of effort. I hate to imagine how the patients must fight each other to have this man as their doctor.

“How did I know that you’d be here tonight,” Kalen states from the doorway as he lifts a bag from our favorite Trabian eatery.

“Brat, stop acting like Mom and tell me that you got me that meat pie thing I love.”

“I will if you tell me why you’re crazy enough to bring Talia here after I was attacked by anti-sorceress mercenaries today.”

“Please, I heard it was a single idiot whom you handled without even pulling a blade,” I say while forcing the sleeping Talia into her cousin’s arms and steal the bags from his otherwise occupied hands. A satisfied noise escapes me at the sight of my prize, and I hurry to the kitchen to find the necessary silverware and plates for our dinner.

Kalen follows me into the kitchen and takes a seat on a stool while cradling Talia with the innate expertise of an Almasy male. “So, who should I thank for your visit tonight? Dad and Mom seemed a little distracted by their upcoming mission, and Aunt Selphie… Oh, did you hear about Mason?”

“Dad mentioned Mason was up to his usual tricks, but that you and Alice performed some miracles to save his life,” I say while placing a plate in front of Kalen. His eyes brighten with the knowledge of who asked me to come here, not that I would have been able to keep it hidden for long. “Now tell me the truth: were you hurt at all after that attack? I’ll know if you’re lying,” I say with a knife pointed at his face.

Unconcerned, Kalen continues to rub Talia’s back while she drools onto his scrubs. “As I have already explained several times over today, his blade never touched me. He got my coat and nothing more serious than that.”

Not hearing the inflection Kalen uses when he’s lying, I lower the knife to sit next to his plate along with a fork. “Good, because I have a baby girl now and I have better things to do than going to jail for murder.”

“As if you wouldn’t send Jael to do your dirty work.”

“For you, baby nephew, I would have handled it personally,” I state while opening the container that holds my Hyne-blessed meat pie. Before any touches my plate, I steal a heavy forkful of perfectly braised meat, mystery magic sauce, chunky potatoes with hints of other vegetables, and fluffy pastry shell. I savor that bite while dishing out my portion and leaving a sliver of a slice for Kalen, knowing that he got himself a sandwich of some concoction with more vegetables than meat in the thing.

Kalen balances Talia while reaching for the other container labeled with his dinner. In the light of the kitchen, I can see that Kalen is exhausted, which isn’t surprising for a doctor and the long shifts he pulls. There is also the matter of him treating Mason as a part of that day. But there is something else to his deep blue eyes, something sad and lonely, a memory of years ago when he was still finding his place in the world.

I allow Kalen a bite of his food before I demand, “Now, tell me why I’m really here.”

Kalen shrugs. “That depends. What did Granddad tell you?”

“He mentioned the GAS attack,” I say with an immature giggle at the phrasing, “and then he told me about Mason. He also told me that Isan and Veyn saw you, and that they said you looked healthy and whole considering everything. If they hadn’t seen you first, I would have rushed to the hospital instead of waiting for you here.”

The young doctor hums to himself and plays with the crust of his sandwich. “Okay, then what did Aunt Selphie tell you?”

“I, what? Did I mention talking to Aunt Selphie?”

Kalen smirks at my failure to hide anything from him. “You would have called her the moment you heard about Mason.”

“Fine, yes, I talked with Aunt Selphie and, aside from her fusing over Mason, she was worried about you. She said you were wandering the halls of the hospital like a lost puppy, and… well…” I growl out a sigh, not certain how to go about this except the direct route. “I thought you were over your crush with Mason. Like years in the past, over him.”

Kalen breathes a laugh at my assumption. “Mason is still handsome as hell, even when half-burnt and dying, but in terms of anything more serious, you’re right, I haven’t thought about him that way in a long time.”

“And you’re still okay with Dr. Takamura moving on? Marrying and already with a baby on the way?”

“Honestly, I’m relieved,” Kalen states as he adjusts his hold on Talia and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I respect Dr. Takamura more than I have anyone else, and my feelings for him were awkward and childish. A relationship with him wouldn’t have lasted long.”

I scowl and point my fork at the young doctor. “Stop being so logical about something as uncontrollable as love. You two would have done fine together.”

“Hn, maybe, but what he has with her is real and perfect. Seeing them together makes me happier than I thought it would.”

I roll my eyes at my idiot nephew, once again recognizing that he got too much from the Loire side of the family tree. “If it’s not Mason or Dr. Takamura, then what the hell has you looking like you got mugged and the thief got away with your heart? Shit, maybe a kidney, too, by the sight of you.”

Kalen plays with the dark hair of my sleeping daughter, considering his response before he decides to be simplistic about it. “Endespithre is in Esthar.”

“Endes—” I gasp at the name I haven’t heard in months, not with the mysterious GF disappearing after his release into the modern world. “Are you saying that your kingdom-destroyer is here? Is he as fucking gorgeous as you remember? Should I be worried about his plans for Esthar given the dangers of our technology against GFs? _Wait_ , when do I get to meet this godlike creature? Obviously when Talia is safe and sound with her daddy, but I can easily arrange that.”

One dark eyebrow lifts in exasperation at my breathless response. “Can you decide first if you’re terrified of him or intrigued? And you know how much I hate that term of Dad’s. Two kingdoms were punished for their actions, and together, they were maybe half the size of Esthar’s capital city. It isn’t as if he burnt the world to the ground.”

I almost argue about the horrors of the GF’s powers and remind Kalen of the women and children who also perished as a result of the spirit’s destruction, but it’s an old debate between us and I see something far more important in dark blue eyes. “Oh no, don’t tell me… Did that bastard appear out of oblivion just to, what, reject you somehow? To tell you that you aren’t worthy of his greatness of some sh—”

“It’s my fault,” Kalen declares harshly, still defending his spider. “I helped to pull him out of his prison, gave him the freedom he had been denied so long, and I…” Pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, he asks, “How could I be stupid enough to think that his need to repay an impossible debt was anything resembling attraction? What was I even _thinking_ to put him into that situation?”

At first startled by his admission, I grin at the frustrating man and grab his hand to give me a proper view of his face again. “Let me see if I have this right: are you telling me that my saint of a nephew has finally found someone who makes him act like a flawed human being for once in his life?”

Kalen barks out an ugly laugh. “It’s more like I’m continuing the streak of putting my heart out there for the wrong reasons.”

The bitter words leave me lost for a moment, and all I can do is stare at the young doctor who has gone to extreme lengths for the happiness and very lives of everyone else around him. As a result, too little is left for himself, and when he does dare to be selfish, things always seem to go sideways. I was there for him when Mason awkwardly turned down a dinner suggestion, and then when Dr. Takamura returned a gift that was simply too much. There have been other men, of course, but nothing remotely serious… And then this GF in male form came into Kalen’s life. I would prefer someone… well, _anyone_ human and safer, but the men of the Almasy family never seem to go the easy route.

Squeezing the hand still in mine, I remind Kalen, “He did kiss you first.”

Dark blue eyes widen to a comical level when Kalen demands, “How did you know about that?”

Confused, I reply slowly, “You told me that he kissed you in that cavern. Crystals falling everywhere, him protecting you with his naked body, romantic as fucking hell?”

Kalen blinks and says dumbly, “Oh, right, he kissed me after I freed him…”

“Wait a Hyne damned minute, did he kiss you _again?_ When you just met after a whole year?”

“…Maybe?”

“And what else is he supposed to do to convince you that he’s interested in you? Hump your leg?”

Pale skin flushes at the thought of his spider, but Kalen still shakes his head. “He’s terrified of me, Azura. He thinks I’ll abuse his power like every human before me, and I can’t… I can’t honestly say that I won’t.”

“Please, you barely rely on your family to get what you want, and you think you’ll steal this GF’s power? Just because? Why would you even need his power?”

“Because it’s _incredible_.”

Momentarily taken aback by the hungry look to his eyes, I hesitate before saying, “And so are _you_.”

Kalen shakes his head. “It’s more than that. I can’t explain it, but when I’m near him, I want _everything_ of him before anyone else can make a claim on him first. And a part of me knows that if I junction with him… It sickens me when I think how easy it would be force myself on him.”

“You would never do that, Kalen. You simply don’t have the heart for it.”

He shakes his head again, the movement causing Talia to whine with annoyance against the side of his neck.

“Okay, enough is enough. You are sullying the good name of my favorite nephew, and I won’t stand for it. So, I’m going to ask three questions, and I want your full honesty. First, do you have any plans to take over the world?”

Kalen glares at me for the ridiculous question, but I point a scolding finger at him in a warning to answer me. “Only an idiot would think taking over the world is possible, let alone worthwhile.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Second, do you think casual sex with a GF would lead to accidental junctioning?”

“ _What?”_ Kalen half-coughs, half-laughs out. “What kind of insane question—”

“You’re the one with a hard-on for a kingdom destroying demon spirit. I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

With a laugh still in his voice, Kalen says, “Stop calling him that. And honestly, I can’t say I’ve read anything about sex between a human and GF.”

“Well, I’ve never heard about GF’s knowing how to kiss either, so I guess there is a first for everything. Maybe you could write an article for one of those medical journals of yours,” I suggest with a wag of my eyebrow. “Third, you didn’t answer me before: is Endespithre as excruciatingly hot as you remembered or just a normal kind of hot?”

Kalen struggles against a smile at my question. “Stop acting like any of this is okay. Endespithre deserves his freedom.”

“Exactly, and here you are, making decisions for him.”

“Azura…”

“No, don’t argue. If you want him to be free, then _let him be free_. He has earned his right to create his own path in this new and crazy world, and he doesn’t need you fixing mistakes he hasn’t even made yet. If he decides to risk everything on you, then smile and tell him that you are his for the taking. Understood?”

Kalen stares with a bewildered look to his eyes, clearly not considering the full meaning of Endespithre’s freedom. “I… Did I really take away that decision from him?”

“If you’re asking me, I think you took it away from the both of you.”

With a hum of uncertainty, he takes another bite of his sandwich and chews in distracted thought.

Knowing the sight of a man who won’t be talking anytime soon, I dig into my neglected meat pie and savor that mouthful to its full extent. Eventually, I’ll have to figure out how I’m supposed to report any of this back to Aunt Selphie and my parents without letting loose the secret of Kalen’s interest in his dangerous spirit. Mom will know I’m hiding something, but from past comments, I have the feeling that Mom wouldn’t be surprised if there was something more to Kalen’s connection with the GF. That man… I thought becoming a mother myself would reveal the secrets behind his ability to know everything about our family, but no such luck.

“Azura…”

I glance up from my plate, my mouth unashamedly full of food.

With a smug grin, Kalen decides the timing is perfect to finally answer my question: “There isn’t a word to describe how disgustingly attractive he is.”

My declaration of “I knew it!” is tragically stifled by half-chewed food, and I choke when stray bits go down the wrong way. My subsequent coughs waken Talia from her sleep, and as her pitiful wails of displeasure sound, I curse at the nature of Loire bastards to dodge uncomfortable questions by using extreme methods.

Looking as innocent as can be, Kalen hands me a glass of water before standing and casually walking away while bouncing my baby girl in effort to calm her cries.

“This isn’t over,” I croak out between coughs.

Kalen’s response is to hum a vaguely familiar lullaby, his lips still quirked into a pleased grin.

“You’re such a bastard, baby nephew, just like Mom.”

“Love you, too, Auntie Azura.”

I half-cough out a laugh before giving in with a muttered, “Damn right, you do.”

 

{Continued}


End file.
